


Tommy Vercetti

by Bitch_In_The_Blue



Series: Grand Theft Auto: Thirty Years [2]
Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V, Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, Grand Theft Auto: Vice City
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Corruption, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drug Use, Emotions, Espionage, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Female Protagonist, Gang Violence, Gold Digging, Gun Violence, Loss of Parent(s), Manipulation, Multi, Murder, Nihilism, Parent-Child Relationship, Poc protagonists, Police Brutality, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-03 19:49:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11539236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitch_In_The_Blue/pseuds/Bitch_In_The_Blue
Summary: Should a child be punished for the sins of the father?In a city where morality is null and void, money is king. Second only to one man who rules over all: Tommy Vercetti.Rosa Salamanca, now free from her past involvement, learns that a life worth living comes with a high price.





	1. Acceptance is the First Step Toward Recovery

Rosa Salamanca's headphones blared music into her ears at full volume. And her long ponytail swayed side to side behind her as she ran on the treadmill. The gym was just about empty when she first showed up, but now there were about a dozen people scattered inside.  
It was about 8 AM mid-May, 2015.  
At three miles, she was done and hit "STOP" to slow to a walk.  
This was every day now. She ran, lifted weights, and swam. She was in the best shape of her life now that she had a schedule to stick to. Working out was a productive, affordable way to let go of negativity. Or at least that's what she got told.  
She was an angrier, more aggressive person since she left Trevor. Unresolved issues, she assumed. The gym only kind of made a difference.  
Who the fuck knows? Furthermore, who the fuck cared? The gym was a sanctuary now, where she could take out her anger on her own body. Having a nicer ass and slimmer waist didn't hurt either.  
Her phone rang through her headphones, and she took a deep breath and answered.  
"Hey, did it come?"  
_"It's here,"_ Lita answered. _"Come home, I wanna see you open it, I'm too nervous to do it myself!"_  
"Okay, I'm heading out! I'll be home in like fifteen minutes."  
  
She still missed Trevor from time to time.  
Leaving him and coming home was good for her in the long run.  
But nothing was the same.  
Rehab was four months. She got a job at Ponsonby's.  
She never replaced her motorcycle or got a car.  
Had therapy every Friday.  
Had Narcotics Anonymous meetings every Wednesday. Throw in the occasional AA meeting and it was a trifecta of being a fucking loser who wasn't allowed to have too much spare time.  
Lita barely trusted her to be alone anymore.  
  
It'd been a year since she left Trevor and came home.  
A whole year of arguments.  
A whole year of trying to earn back her mother's trust.  
A whole year of constant apologizing and trying to make everything better.  
Lita didn't seem to have faith in her to do something as simple as putting gas in the car. No matter how hard she tried to prove that she'd changed.  
The only thing that hadn't changed was the plan: college.  
  
The cab ride home was short and cheap, and Rosa excitedly ran up her driveway and into the front door.  
"Where's the letter?" She called. "I'm sweaty and disgusting and I need to see this before I can decide whether to sing or cry in the shower!"  
"Kitchen!" Lita called, tossing the envelope to her daughter like a frisbee once she walked in the door.  
Rosa caught it between her palms and hurriedly ripped the envelope open. She stepped up to the kitchen island as she carefully tore at the paper and dropped the stray pieces onto the counter. Her heart raced as she removed the paper from the envelope.  
"Here goes nothing," She said, taking a deep breath as she unfolded the letter.  
"Dear Ms. Vercetti, on behalf of..." she muttered as she skimmed the letter. "we...to inform you..."  
She stopped reading and looked up at Lita, who was standing by with her fingers crossed. "What is it? Did you make it? Did you _not_ make it?" She gasped, hands over her mouth as Rosa looked harder at the paper and re-read it a little slower. "Oh my god, mija, I'm so sorry you didn't make it, I-"  
"I made it." Rosa said, dumbfounded. Lita's eyes widened and she and Rosa shared wide smiles. "I got accepted!"  
Needless to say, she sang in the shower.  
  
Within the hour, Rosa got a call from Tracey, who received the same letter.  
Tracey had graduated from ULSA at the end of the winter 2014 semester with stunningly good grades, and applied at the same time as Rosa. Juggling classes was the hard part, so Rosa had actually helped her do half of her homework. (Tracey understood the material. Regardless of how the work got done, that was the important part.)  
The only _real_ difference between them was that Michael and Amanda paid out of pocket for her to go to college.  
Rosa was denied financial aid- and never really learned why. The response to her application was vague and sketchy, like there was no real reason. The educational system in America was **_fucked_**.  
So she took out a loan with Maze Bank.  
She'd just get a job out there and worry about paying when the bills started coming.  
Probably not the best approach, but was a better plan than she had two years ago.  
  
As soon as word got out that they'd be leaving in August, everyone wanted to spend time with them.  
Lita and Amanda took them out to lunches and brunches, went shopping, and went swimming in both of their back yards.  
Rosa ended up buying Righteous Slaughter sometime after her twenty first birthday, and played online with Jimmy and Lamar a lot. It was probably the only thing all three of them had in common, but it was a good time.  
Speaking of Lamar, he and Rosa often tagged along to hang out with Tracey and Franklin when they were in the mood for company. They became a tight knit group. Almost always together.  
Even Michael had met up with Rosa out in town to talk. They got overpriced, overly sweetened coffee at Bean Machine and shot the shit.  
She still harbored some resentment for him, but reminded herself that he and her mom were adults. Married or not. They knew what they chose. Nothing could be changed.  
But that wasn't the _only_ thing that bothered her.  
What boiled under the surface was that she knew how _He_ felt about Michael the whole time, and how she just never could compare.  
"Does Trevor know I'm leaving?" She asked pointedly, tossing her empty paper cup into the trash can behind her.  
"Do you want him to?" Michael asked.  
It burned to talk about him.  
She was convinced that she loved him back then. Part of her was still sure that she did, but her therapist said she was just in an emotional state and convinced herself that he could offer comfort if she gave herself to him. Some kind of bullshit like that.  
"I don't know," she said slowly. "But it doesn't really matter. He wouldn't give a shit. He was so stoned all the time; I doubt he even remembers any of it.."  
"He still talks about you."  
She looked at him like he was telling her a riddle. "Seriously?"  
"You live right next door. He sees your house _at least_ twice a week. Asks about you sometimes-"  
"What does he ask?"  
Michael sighed and swirled the coffee in his cup to keep the creamer from settling in the bottom. "If you're still here, mostly. And he asks about if you ask about him."  
She sighed, suddenly feeling tired. That took the wind out of her sails.  
"Don't tell him I'm going anywhere," she told him. "Let him think I just disappeared. Or moved away."  
"You afraid he's just gonna show up wherever you are?"  
"No. The money I gave him is insurance... I just don't know how he'll react to seeing me doing better without him." God knows how he would react. Anger, probably. He'd lash out at someone, or possibly hurt himself.  
She didn't want that on her conscience.  
  
August came quickly, and the rush to get everything done and ready to leave only got faster until the end.  
She left her meetings, her therapy sessions, cancelled her gym membership, and quit her job.  
And then the day came.  
"Why'd you _wanna_ go to Vice City, though?" Franklin asked as he helped pack Rosa's and Tracey's bags into Tracey's car. Lamar came along too, but only lifted a few things and spent the rest of the time on an app for hooking up with people nearby. For once, not very talkative. Probably messaging a girl.  
"Doesn't ya dad live there?" Franklin asked. "You gonna move in with him?"  
" _Shit no_ ," Rosa sneered. "I'm _so_ over hanging out with psychotic old men."  
He snickered. "Shit, at least you got outta that. I'm still stuck with the old assholes." He gestured to Lamar. "N' this lazy motherfucker."  
"You know you fuckin' _looooove_ me, homie. Don't bitch 'cuz yo lame ass can't hang like she can." Lamar smirked, not looking up from his phone but freeing his left hand to flip his middle finger at Franklin. Then he muttered something at his phone that sounded like "Goddamn, she got a fat ass..."  
Some girl's profile.  
Rosa was glad that out of any of the men she worked with, she still had Franklin as her friend. Lamar too.  
She talked to Michael one-on-one from time to time; like when he found out she'd be leaving town. She didn't quite consider him a friend.  
She hadn't seen Trevor in a few months.  
She saw his truck across the street on occasion, but never him.  
She knew she wouldn't be able to handle seeing him if he looked worse than before.  
"Good luck with that old man drama. Seriously. Not kidding."  
Tracey came out of her house with a cardboard box full of toiletries and shoved it into the back of her car. The back seats were laid down to make more trunk space- Tracey was taking more clothing and comfort items from home than Rosa, who had planned to just buy stuff as she needed it.  
"How are we looking?" Rosa asked.  
"Almost done! I have one more box and we're ready to hit the road." Tracey panted. She'd been running up and down stairs all morning trying to get organized. "I'll be right back!" She trotted back indoors, flip-flops clacking on the tile.  
"So how are you two handling the long distance thing so far?" Rosa asked.  
"He been cryin' all night errynight already, baby," Lamar teased. "He gon' miss that aaaasssssss!"  
"Man, shut the fuck up-" F turned his head to hide the deep red tint on his cheeks. "Yeah, Imma miss her, y'know? She..." He glanced at Lamar, who was in deep concentration on his phone now. "I'm gon' ask her to marry me."  
Rosa's expression lit up, and she was mid-gasp when Franklin shushed her. Lamar must not have known. He couldn't keep a secret for shit.  
"When? How? Did you talk to Michael and Amanda about it? Tell me, or else!" She whispered.  
"I talked to 'em both- and I dunno when I'll do it yet. When are y'all leavin'?"  
Rosa gestured to the open trunk. "You see us packing up, Frank! It's _today!_ In like three minutes as soon as she gets the last box in the trunk."  
"Shit..." He muttered. "Shit, y'know, this's the kinda thing ya always feel like ya got more time for."  
"Do you have a ring?"  
"Yeah, I got it with me..."  
"Hey man," she shrugged. "It's now or it's over the phone."  
"Shit. Fuck." Franklin looked pensive, reaching into his pocket and thumbing the velvet on the outside of the ring box.  
"Ready!" Tracey beamed as she reappeared outside with the last of her move in her hands. She carefully placed it on top of a plastic bag of Rosa's gym clothes. "Anything else?"  
"Nothing from me," Rosa said. She shot Franklin a look. "I'm gonna get in the car, you might wanna take _one more_ quick look to make sure you have everything ready."  
The brunette smiled to herself once her back was turned to the couple.  
"Imma get up outta here too," Lamar said, sensing a teary goodbye from Tracey. "Got me a honey with a fat ass waitin' in Murietta Heights."  
Of course- he and Franklin rode together, but he just wanted to avoid the moment. He left the De Santa's driveway and went to his friend's car on the street.  
Rosa sat down in the passenger seat of Tracey's Issi and shut the door before reaching over and turning the keys in the ignition. The windows were up and the air conditioning blasted through the vents on high.  
Rosa watched in the rear view mirror as Franklin and Tracey spoke. They hugged, kissed, and then Franklin's hand reached for his pocket.  
He got down on his knee, Tracey visibly gasped with her hands over her mouth, and within a few seconds he was standing again and they were hugging so tightly that Rosa could see Tracey being lifted up.  
She even heard the "YES!!" Above the air conditioning.  
The brunette grinned at the scene, and sat back comfortably in her seat to wait.  
Everyone would be so excited for them as soon as they announced it. Lita, Tracey's family, Tre--  
_Do not finish that thought._  
Her expression dropped when she thought of him. He mentioned marrying her once to get her to stay.  
The memory still stung more than a year later. Especially since she assumed that he'd moved on to the next naive, self-hating twenty year old he could find. And Los Santos had plenty.  
A couple of minutes after the proposal, Tracey got into the driver's seat, mascara running with tears of joy and a gorgeous diamond on her finger.  
Rosa's smile returned at the sight. "Got everything?"  
Tracey was too choked up to answer, holding out her hand to show off the ring instead.  
Rosa had never seen her so happy.


	2. In Debt

They traded off which of them drove every few hours. The slowest part was getting from San Andreas to the mainland.  
Every time Rosa drove, Tracey was on the phone with Franklin or Amanda.  
Every time Tracey was behind the wheel, Rosa was either napping or checking in with Lita.  
Aside from phone conversations, they relied on loud music and conversation to keep them alert on the long stretch of highway ahead of them.  
Badly singing along to the radio and laughing at each other trying to hit hivh and low notes made for entertainment until they'd become too drowsy to continue driving at night. They checked into hotels and swapped who paid for rooms. Then the next morning, they'd eat breakfast at the first diner they could find before hitting the road and doing it all over again.  
They made stops for sightseeing, and had anyone they could find take their picture in front of the landmarks. The faultline, Area 69 in the blurry distance, the statues, the rivers, the big cities, even the expansive fields. Every picture got forwarded to their families and closest friends.  
  
It took five days to reach Florida.  
Vice City was a set of four islands just off the coast, all connected by bridges. The only ways to reach it from the mainland were by plane, or by ferry.  
Tracey, after parking her car on the ferry, immediately reclined the driver's seat. "I am so ready to fall asleep," she said.  
"It's just a twenty minute ride," Rosa said. "We'll be driving off of here before you even fall asleep."  
" _Ugh_ ," the blonde groaned, sitting her seat upright again. "Wanna trade spots? Those last four hours on the road made me, like, _so_ super tired."  
They didn't get much sleep the night before, instead deciding to drive through most of the night.  
Rosa nodded. Tracey had driven most of the night. She deserved a rest. "I'll get us to campus from here."  
They got out of the car to switch seats, and Rosa paused for a few seconds behind the open car door.  
The air was warm, humid, and ionized by a dark cloud gaining speed on the ferry. A storm was coming. But that apparently happened a lot down south. Lita told her once that all the bridges were shut down for a week or two back in the day during a hurricane. That had crippled travel between most of the islands and Vice City's mainland.  
The charged, gray atmosphere, the sea air, and the smell of exhaust from the few cars still idling on the boat was a surprisingly nice combination. Almost surreal, and definitely dreamlike.  
She was about to start college away from home. The fresh start she'd promised herself all those months ago.  
  
The dorms had only a few empty rooms left when they arrived, and with a little bit of flirtatious encouragement to the guy doing room assignments, they were able to share a room on the fourth floor of the building.  
The whole campus was new- not even twenty years old yet and still looking pretty good.  
Their room was pretty nice. An en suite bathroom, a microwave, two desks, two dressers, a shared closet, and two comfortable beds. The window was in shade and faced out to a courtyard in the center of the square-shaped building. This place was great!  
  
Apparently Prawn Island used to be a mainly gang owned area and an old porn studio. Then the gangs were driven out, the houses were demolished, the studio was sold and torn down, then a privately owned college went up in its place.  
Who owned It? Who knows.  
But whoever did made sure that it became a commodity in certain fields, so it would be like there were no other options but to get a degree there in their specific field.  
Rosa herself had seen that any other college for a bachelor's or higher in marine biology wasn't as acclaimed as VCU. They'd just take every cent they could until she graduated. And she couldn't fight it if she wanted to make a living.  
  
"I wanna get some string lights in here," Tracey said as she unpacked her clothes, re-folded them, and stacked them into her designated drawers. "I like a little extra light."  
"In that case I might put a curtain around my bed," Rosa replied. "I need it to be pitch black so I can sleep."  
She dumped her box of clothes into her drawers. She'd sort it all out eventually. After laundry day. Maybe. "I wanna check out the town before we do anything else. I hear it's party central."  
"I could ask the DA if there's anything fun to do around here. I think I heard somebody in the hallway talking about a night club."  
"A club? C'mon, that's so cliché."  
"Maybe, but it's a good chance to dress up and get drunk." Tracey shot Rosa a sly look. "And maybe meet somebody nice."  
"Hey!" Rosa pointed a finger at her friend. "I don't need to meet anybody. Nice or not."  
"How long has it been since you got some action?"  
Rosa pressed her lips together into a thin line. She hadn't had sex since she was with Trevor. And Tracey knew that.  
"My point exactly." The blonde's perfectly shaped eyebrows raised. Her friend's silence spoke volumes.  
"And _my_ point exactly." Rosa retorted. "I've gone this long, I can go longer. The only 'action' I need is school. And a job. I need to find a job. Fuck men, get money. That's my mantra from now on."  
"Why the rush to go back to work?"  
"Maze Bank is the only place that would give me a loan. And they're gonna start sending bills in about two months... and the money I got from them isn't exactly enough for books and supplies. And on top of that, I wanna buy a car and I need to keep paying the phone bill, and the free internet here sucks di-"  
"You're giving me anxiety."  
"Get on my level."  
"In that case, I might end up getting a job too, I guess... wherever I qualify. I need money for _fun_."  
  
And two months later, that's exactly what they did.  
Rosa had landed the only register position they had available at the campus bookstore and worked in between classes. The hours were decent, but the pay was just barely enough for her phone and internet service. She'd have to dip into her credit card account for food money.  
  
Debt began to rack up.  
  
Tracey had to help pitch in for food, and Rosa kept a note on how much money she owed her- despite Tracey insisting she didn't have to pay her back.  
Fuck, fuck, fucking _FUCK_ \- why did she give _ALL_ of the money to Trevor? Why didn't she keep a few thousand? ** _FUCK._**  
"Y'know, there's _always_ jobs open where I work." The blonde offered.  
Tracey had gotten a job at the strip club near Ocean Beach. The Pole Position. Where she worked as a stripper. Michael would almost literally have an aneurysm if he ever found out.  
"I really don't wanna be a stripper. No offense." Especially since she imagined the owner to be no different than 'Him'.  
No thank you.  
Tracey sneered, eyes narrowed. " _What's wrong with being a stripper?_ "  
"It's for people with more confidence than me."  
"What are you not confident for? You work out all the time! _You're hot!_ You can make money off that."  
"I'd also probably stab the first guy to touch me." She wasn't kidding. She killed four men, what's one more?  
"My manager encourages that. She's been working there for years. Friends with the owner or something. Look, I'll talk to her and set up an interview for you."  
"What's the pay like?"  
Tracey laughed. "Better than a fuckin' book store!"  
  
By the end of Tracey's next shift, she had gotten Rosa an interview with the manager on Friday night.  
Rosa was nervous, to say the least.  
She'd never put herself on display before, not that there was anything wrong with it. She just never thought it was for her.  
And like... how _do_ you even interview for a job like this? Get naked? Audition a fake smile? Dance? Suck off the boss?  
Ugh. No way in hell.  
But she did have to do all of the other stuff. So she dressed for the occasion.  
The full length mirror in the dorm wasn't exactly the most flattering but it was the best there was to offer.  
She dropped some money on lingerie. Dark red and lacy. And she borrowed one of Tracey's dresses to wear over it. The same one she wore on her birthday last year.  
Well... at least she looked good. Confidence was easy to fake when you knew you looked good.  
Just like at any other job.  
  
_"It's like any other job,"_ she told herself aloud after she left the taxi and walked up to the club. _"It's just like any other job."_  
She anxiously smoothed down the black bodycon dress before entering the strip club.  
She was immediately met with the end of a Ke$ha song blaring through the speakers and immediately being followed with Porcelain and the Tramps. Songs about taking off your clothes. Go figure.  
  
She made her way further inside and took in the scenery. It was a smaller club than The Vanilla Unicorn, and had fewer dancers. But the bar was stocked pretty damn full, and men were lined up at the counter waiting for service from an older Hispanic woman- maybe around Lita's age. She was probably the only clothed woman in there, aside from Rosa.  
On the other side of the club, there were booths with table dancers, each one with a pole.  
One of which where Tracey De Santa was dancing (really badly) dressed in nothing but a G-string and nipple pasties.  
Tracey spotted her and waved, and Rosa waved back, feeling self-conscious and not knowing who to talk to.  
" _Fuck_ , you're beautiful," a drunken man slurred as he walked past her. "Can I get a dance?"  
"I don't work here," she said, giving him a nasty look.  
"I didn't ask if you worked here, I asked for a dance," He tried to inconspicuously lay his hand on her lower back and slide it downward. "Whaddya say, baby?"  
She took his hand off of her back and leaned closer to him so he could hear her above the music. The smell of cheap beer on his breath hit her nose. Nauseating.  
She slapped his hand away. "I say that if you ask me for a dance, or touch me one more fucking time, I'm gonna break whichever arm you use to masturbate, _baby_."  
He laughed, expecting it to be a joke. But once he saw the look in her eye, he realized she was serious and backed away while muttering to himself about not understanding why she was being such a bitch about it.  
"Asshole," she grumbled. Maybe this job wasn't for her. She didn't like this place. Maybe she could just-  
"Rosa!"  
She spun and saw Tracey walking over to her, glistening with sweat from vigorous movement but smelling strongly of peach body oil. "You look good! You ready?"  
"Shit no. I'm-"  
"Don't worry, you'll do fine! Hang on, I'll get my manager for you-" Tracey strode off toward the bar before Rosa could stop her.  
  
Well... Shit.  
Looks like this interview was happening after all.  
  
Tracey came back a moment later with the bartender.  
"Rosa, this is Mercedes. She's the manager. She's gonna interview you."  
"Not tonight," Mercedes said through a Colombian accent. "The bar is busy- I can still do it but it'll take me some time. Or if you want I can send somebody else to interview you."  
Rosa shrugged. "Whatever's easiest for you."  
Mercedes turned to Tracey. "Can you take her back to the office? I'll send whoever's available first."  
  
She waited a full ten minutes in the back office. It was much neater than where she'd been before.  
_Must be too busy for me tonight,_ she thought. _Probably gonna send one of the strippers to interview me and I'm gonna have to pretend I'm not staring at her rack._  
She giggled at the stupid thought and jumped when she heard the door open.  
"Alright," a man's voice sighed as he stepped inside, let the door fall shut behind him, and settled into the desk without so much as looking at her.  
Impersonal, but it was a job as a stripper, so who cared? He'd be able to see plenty of her soon enough, so to speak.  
He spent the first minute at his desk scrolling through his phone, much like how she was while she waited. He was an older man, and his mostly gray hair contrasted against his black suit and cyan undershirt. No tie- he kind of reminded her of an older Michael De Santa, but with a tan and an angrier looking face. The stronger brow and pointed, Roman nose were what defined his look the most.  
"What's your name, sweetheart?"  
"I go by Rosa. But my birth name is Tommie."  
"Huh," he mused. "Small world. Alright, so, as a formality I need to look at an ID to make sure you're over eighteen."  
He wouldn't look up at her still, instead his phone made a digital 'click' with each time he touched the screen.  
"Yeah, sure," she agreed, fishing her driver's license from the wallet side of her phone case and passing it over to him.  
He set his phone face down on the desk and took the ID, freezing the moment he looked at her picture and paling when he saw her name and reading it aloud slowly.  
" _Tommie Rosalinda Vercetti_." Finally he looked up at her, in awe, seeing the spitting image of Lita Salamanca when she was twenty three years old. Almost thirty years ago.  
Rosa's eyes went wide with horror when she recognized his face from the newspaper headline on the internet. How could she not recognize him sooner? After she'd seen his mugshot online about a dozen times?  
  
The realization sunk in for both of them at the same time.  
  
"Give me my card," she said abruptly, attempting to snatch the ID out of his hand but narrowly missing when he looked closer at it to read the address.  
Los Santos, San Andreas. After all this time, Lita had been hiding out where Ken Rosenberg was sent to rehab. Why would she choose-  
_Oh._  
The washed up, coke addict lawyer was the least likely avenue for a pregnant woman on her own. A disguise in plain view.  
"Give me my card!" Rosa repeated, getting out of her chair and reaching over the desk. Anything to leave. Anything!  
She felt like she was going to be sick.  
Tommy Vercetti looked back to her once her hands clasped around the card and pulled it away. She held it tightly and moved away from him.  
"Hey, hang on a second-" he called.  
"Fuck off." Rosa glared, striding out of the door and slamming the door shut.  
That was his daughter.  
And she told him to fuck off.  
_Jesus Christ._  
That wasn't how he'd ever imagined meeting his kid.  
He folded his arms on the surface of his desk during a long moment of silence as twenty-some years worth of questions ran through his mind.  
Then he picked up his phone and dialed of his associates.  
"Mr. Vercetti! What can I do for you?"  
"I need you to look up information on an address for me. 19117 Portola Drive, Los Santos, San Andreas." The address on her license.  
  
"How'd it go? That was really quick!" Tracey said, following Rosa away from the back room once she left the door.  
"I need to get the fuck out of here," Rosa said stiffly. "I don't know why I thought I'd be okay here. _Fuck!_ I wanna go back to Los Santos. This was a fucking mistake-"  
"Wait, _what!?_ " Tracey gasped, following Rosa out the door and onto the sidewalk. People passing by stared unashamedly at her. " _What happened? What's wrong?_ "  
"I-I'll tell you about it later. I'm-" the brunette sighed, trying to carefully rub her eyes without smudging her makeup. "I'm gonna go for a run."


	3. Parenting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attempted sexual assault in this chapter, read at your own discretion.

Seventeen.  
  
Eighteen.  __  
  
Nineteen.   
  
_ Twenty. _  
  
She got to her feet and kept running once she'd finished twenty push-ups. Another lap around the track. Forty crunches. Another lap. Two minute plank. Another lap. Twenty burpees. Two more laps to finish.  
She stumbled back into the dorm, panting and sweaty with what was left of her makeup smudged around her eyes. She didn't care at that point. She looked like a pissed off raccoon.  
The shower washed it away.  
As soon as she walked into the bedroom in her underwear and rubbing her sopping wet hair with a towel, she saw that Tracey was back from her shift and was getting ready to shower herself, shedding her shorts and tank top to throw them into the hamper.  
"Hey! What happened earlier?" The blonde asked urgently, fearing the worst that Mercedes sent someone cruel or perverted to interview her.  
Rosa opened her mouth- words failing. Yeah... Probably not a good idea to share that her father was her roommate's boss at the strip club. "I don't think I'm cut out for it. I wasn't on my A game. Too nervous. The guy told me I could lose ten pounds and I freaked out. Came home and worked out right after."  
"Oh my God, I'm _so_ sorry!" Tracey gasped, hand over her mouth. "Who did Mercedes send to interview you? I'll tell her what happened!"  
"It's not important," Rosa could beat around the bush forever and Tracey would be none the wiser. "I'm not gonna go back there. The book store is gonna have to be enough."  
  
Rosa didn't sleep very well throughout the week. The idea of Tommy Vercetti knowing her face and that she was nearby felt the same as the paranoia of expecting the cops to show up after she and Trevor took Logan's motorcycle.    
School and work both suffered.    
It was hard to pay attention when she was contemplating if she should tell her mom about seeing him or not. What would she say?  
What would she do if she found out that he might've seen their home address on her license?  
By the next weekend, Tracey thought it'd be good for Rosa to get out and have fun. So she brought her to the Malibu on Friday night. The only club in Vice City worth visiting.  
Whoever owned the place must have been neglecting it, because everything but the DJ and the stereo was outdated. The colors were ugly, the patterns were ugly, the carpet was filthy, and the statues and columns didn't fit with any other decor.  
They'd been there a couple of times before after they'd moved in and had time before classes started.  
It sucked, but the bar was lined with bottles that never went empty and drinks were cheap. The best way to get fucked up and forget the shitty decor.  
Tracey brought a friend from her class with her as her "date". A guy in his early 30's. His name was Alfonso and he was openly, unashamedly in love with his husband in Liberty City. He made a good wingman too. He deterred unwanted advances from both of the women, but mainly pretended to be Tracey's boyfriend so Rosa could "get some action".  
And speaking of which-  
"The guy at the bar with the green shirt bought this for you," a pretty server in a white dress approached their table and set down a girly pink drink in front of Rosa.  
"Uh-" she looked over to the bar, visibly confused until she saw the man who bought the drink. "Oh, _wow_."  
_He's hot as fuck..._  
"Go over there!" Tracey nudged her.  
"I don't know. He's really..." Really hot. "I'm nervous."  
"Go or he's gonna think you're not interested," Alfonso added.  
"Fuckfuckfuck, fine-" Rosa anxiously sighed and got up from the table, adjusting her dress where it rode up on her thighs and taking the drink over to where he was.  
The bass of Deadmau5 playing on the speakers bumped in her chest in a near constant vibration; which felt shitty when combined with her nerves.  
"Was this from you?" A smile came naturally when she approached him.  
"There's another one in it for you if you drink it with me," he replied.  
_Smooth bastard._  
"Then I guess I'll be drinking with you. I'm Rosa."  
  
His name was Connor.  
First impression of him was that he was indeed hot. And nice.  
Tattoos, muscles, well dressed, and great hair- the whole package at first glance!  
"So you're from San Andreas?" He asked. They'd settled into a table on the far side of the club- the only one left.  
"Yup. Grew up in Los Santos."  
"What part?"  
"Rockford Hills."  
He grinned. "Born and raised in Richman."  
"No way!" She brightened up. "We're practically neighbors."  
_Oh god he was so cute-_  
The waitress brought another round of shots to their table. They made cheers to Los Santos and drank. Rosa had had several drinks by then, and it was starting to hit her. Her vision was starting to blur as she lost focus and became kinda drowsy...  
Ugh, at least she didn't have to drive.  
She sighed contentedly and leaned back in her chair.  
Huh- that's cool. There's an upstairs area that overlooks the rest of the club. Some guy was standing up there. Must be a VIP section.   
She glanced back to Tracey and Alfonso and saw that Tracey was mouthing to her that they were getting ready to leave. She gave Rosa a thumbs up and Alfonso mouthed a "GET SOME", which made Rosa struggle to stifle a laugh.    
She'd take a cab home in the morning if necessary, but now she was set on having a one night stand. She wasn't gonna pass up a guy like this.   
  
She looked away from her drink for three seconds.   
  
Two shots later, Rosa was nauseous. Dizzy. Exhausted.  
Maybe she had too much to drink...   
"You wanna get out of here?" Connor asked, smiling confidently.   
"I don't know," Rosa frowned. "I don't really feel well. I think I should go back to my dorm."   
"Let's go back to my place."   
"I should call a cab."   
"I'll drive you," he persisted.   
A ride home sounded good.  
She blanked out for what felt like a second. But in that second, she was brought outside to the club's parking lot.  
Why'd she go with with him, anyway? Where were they going...? Did he know where the dorms were?  
She was so focused on trying to think straight that she hadn't noticed that she'd zoned out again, and was laid into the back seat of a car.    
When she came to again, Connor was kissing her; hovering over her in the car seat.    
"Stop it, I don't feel good," she slurred. Too drunk and fatigued to push him back.   
"I can fix that. Just relax," he mumbled before biting the side of her neck.   
Alcohol had numbed her senses. She could barely register the feeling of his hands on her. She began to blank out again.   
  
When she opened her eyes again, harsh light forced them shut once more. Her head fucking hurt so badly. And there was an ache in the side of her neck as well as her forearms.   
But she was sober.   
She slowly opened her eyes again and saw that she was indoors. Still in her dress, but her heels were gone. How'd she get there? Upon futher inspection, she noticed she was lying on a comfortable leather couch in what looked to be an office judging by the upscale decor and expensive furniture...    
Where was this, anyway?  
Two men in black suits stood watch over her where she lay on the couch.  
Sunshine beamed down from the skylight above the room.  
That made her head hurt more... Fuck, how much did she drink?  
"Where is this?" She groggily asked the men. She rubbed her sore left arm, noticing a hand shaped bruise around her bicep.  
"The Malibu VIP room. Mr. Vercetti asked us to watch you."  
She grimaced. A combination of displeasure and nausea. " _I'm still at the club?_ Tell 'Mr. Vercetti' I don't want his help. Tell him to stay away from me."  
"Guess you don't remember, then." Tommy said as he appeared from the stairwell. "Good thing I told my guys to keep an eye out for you."  
"Christ, now you're _stalking_ me?" She groaned, shakily standing up to leave.  
"There's a difference between stalking and parenting." He moved closer, sitting on the couch across the coffee table. "If I hadn't done that, you'd be another statistic right now."  
" _Some fuckin' parent you are,_ " she muttered under her breath. "... Wait, what do you mean?"  
He motioned to one of his guys. Bouncers, she assumed. "John over here saw that little prick put something in your drink. When your friends left you, he lured you outside behind the building and-"  
Her stomach churned at the thought. "Bathroom."  
"What?"  
" _Where'safuckingbathroom!?_ "  
"The door by the stairs."  
She jumped off of the couch and strode past him into the only door near the top of the stairs; the door still open behind her as she dropped to her knees and vomited, reaching the toilet in the nick of time. Not only was she assaulted; but Tommy and his guys had to come to her rescue. That thought was enough to make anyone sick- let alone a vicious hangover.  
"Get it out of your system." Her father said from where he leaned against the doorway; arms crossed. He seemed cocky- as though having proved a point that she needed him to protect her.  
"Did he...?" She motioned to herself. "Do anything?"  
"Looks like he bit you, but that's about it. My guys were on him before he could blink."  
She sighed; relieved, yet still disgusted as she touched the inflamed teeth marks on her neck. That would stay for a few days.  
"What happened to him? Did you call the cops?"  
"He put his hands on my fuckin' kid. He's _dead_."  
And then she threw up again. "... I think I need a doctor."  
"What, you never had a bad hangover before?"He scoffed.  
"I was _drugged!_ "  
"You're just purging."  
"Oh, sorry, I'm just not all that rich in experience when it comes to getting _roofied!_ Thank you ever so _fucking_ much for this valuable lesson, _dad!_ " She retorted, spitefully throwing out the last word.  
Tommy didn't say anything- withdrawn... She almost felt bad for the aggression. Almost. He sounded like he wanted to help her. And he didn't even really have to. He was under no real obligation to look out for a kid he had never even laid eyes on.  
She felt chills in her short dress and no sleeves. She'd kill for a jacket. She sat back against the cold wall after flushing the toilet and looked at him. The sunshine beamed from the small window above her and onto his shirt. A Hawaiian shirt, like Lita said he had a preference for. Never took the damn things off, apparently. "Okay, so you killed him... How long was I out?"  
"Six hours." He answered.  
"And your guys just stood around the whole time?"  
"They called me after they brought you up here. I showed up maybe five hours ago."  
"So you sat around for _five_ hours and waited for me to either wake up or die. You didn't think to take me to a hospital."  
He rolled his eyes. "You weren't gonna die, Tommie."  
" _Stop calling me that_ ," she groaned. "I hate 'Tommie'. I don't even use Vercetti."  
"Because that's my name."  
"Exactly. As far as I'm concerned, it's Rosa Salamanca. It's only Tommie Vercetti on paper and I'm gonna change it after I get my degree."  
"I can't believe she named you after me." He offered a ghost of a smile. He seemed to be flattered and happy that Lita cared enough to name their baby after him, especially enough to give the name "Tommie" to a girl.  
"Yeah, neither can I. Not over you, I guess." She spit into the toilet, trying to get the foul, acidic taste out of her mouth.  
He looked pensive, going quiet as the smile was wiped right off of his face. He must have assumed that she abandoned all thought of him when she left and had Rosa.  
"She ever remarry?"  
"No." _Just fucked the neighbor._   
She stood up again, almost immediately falling against the wall and pausing to steady herself. The tiles were cool against her bare feet. When did her shoes come off? "Where's my phone?"  
"I got it." He took the device from his pocket and passed it to her. "Your friend called a bunch of times before I answered. That one girl- Tracey?"  
"Yeah."  
"Stripper name," he muttered.  
"Well she _is_ a stripper."  
"Oh- well she called. I talked to her and told her I had you... Y'know... She was real surprised to hear that I was your dad." Weird. He gestured a lot when he talked, a lot like Trevor did.  
"That's because I didn't tell her. And I wasn't going to."  
"Why?"  
"Would _you_ wanna tell your friend that your dad is a drug lord and owns the strip club she works at? I'm trying to get a doctorate, not a half hour on a shitty reality show."  
"Well, I told her what happened. Said I'd arrange for you to be dropped off at your dorm. Marine biology major, right? Smart. Useless degree, but smart."  
"You've been interrogating my friends about me?"  
"I want to know who you turned out to be. I'm parenting, remember?"  
" _Fuck you. My degree's not useless_." She muttered under her breath. "Send me home."  
"I'll drive you."  
"I don't _want_ you to drive me, I want a cab."  
"As much of a hard ass as your mom." He grumbled. "Alright. Kaufman Cabs. I own that company. I'll tell them you ride for free forever."  
She didn't argue that. She wouldn't be surprised if her money was gone. She could still feel her ID and room key where she nestled them into her bra. There were no pockets on her dress, and purses were too easily stolen.  
"Thanks for the help," she said pointedly. "But I'm never coming back here, and I'd like it if you kept your distance from me and my life."  
"I'm just looking out for you."  
"I've done well enough without you so far." They said nothing more. She rinsed out her mouth in the sink, grabbed her shoes from beside the couch, and headed outside. Her head was pounding in the bright Florida sun, but she was put at ease when she got into the cab Tommy called for her.   
Where did he get off pretending to want to be a father?   
  
She thanked the driver when they arrived and asked if he would like at least a tip. He told her that any friend of Tommy's rides for free.  
"Mr. Vercetti and I are _not_ friends." She replied curtly. "I insist on leaving a tip."   
"That's real sweet of you, hija," the elderly driver told her. He must've worked for Tommy forever.    
She gave him ten dollars- the only remaining dollar bill she found on her person. He gave her his personal phone number, so that she would always have a driver who knew her.  
The walk back to her room was short, and Tracey opened the door before she could even slide her key through the lock.  
"Holy fucking _shit_ , Rosa!" She cried, pulling her friend into a hug. "I was so worried! What happened?"  
Rosa's headache flared at the panic in Tracey's voice. "Can I take a shower first?"  
"Oh- go on. Sorry. You're not hurt, are you?" She shadowed Rosa as she went to her dresser and grabbed some clean clothes to sleep in.  
"No, nothing happened."  
"Thank god," she sighed. "I called you like a million times. I was so scared- this is all my fault-"  
"It's not your fault," Rosa interrupted. "He knew what he was doing and how to prey on someone. I just happened to be the one he picked."  
"What happened to _him?_ "  
He's either six feet under or his body is being eaten by sharks just beyond the beach right now, where families are out having fun together in the sunshine. Completely unaware. "I don't know. I think the police came." It's better that Tracey didn't know either.  
"Why didn't you tell me who your dad was?"  
"Because I didn't think I'd ever meet the asshole- I thought he'd be dead by now or something." She walked into their bathroom.  
" _Why?_ I know you told me he's a bad guy, but you never gave me any details."  
Rosa, as she undressed behind the door and got into the shower, told Tracey more of the stories she heard from her mom. The drug empire, the prison time, their marriage, going to San Andreas, getting help from Ken and CJ, etc. By the time she was done showering and dressed, she'd told the jist of the story, ending it with how she was stuck with coming here to get a degree.  
" _Jesus,_ " Tracey muttered as Rosa left the bathroom while she combed through her long, dark hair. It'd grown quickly after she cut it last year. It was down to her chest now. "Sounds like a bad soap opera."  
"Feels like one too," Rosa sighed, heading for her bed. "I don't want anything to do with him. He can make his way _right_ back out of my life."  
"But-- what about your student loans?"  
Rosa froze mid-step, slowly turning to her friend. "What about 'em?"  
"Your dad obviously wants to be there for you now, right? What else would all the 'parenting' and saving you be for?"  
"... _Go on_."  
"Your dad's a millionaire... What if you get him to pay off your debt?"  
Rosa's eyes widened. "I'm listening."  
"Well... You can play nice and eventually, since he seems like he wants to be friends with you, he'll probably give you money if you mention the collections. Might not even have to pay him back."  
" _Jesus fuck, Trace,_ " she gaped.  
"I'm sorry- that sounded so manipulative and terrible but-"  
"No, that's fuckin' genius!" She beamed, lying in her bed. She reached over to the blinds and shut out the shaded daylight from their room. "It's terrible, but it's brilliant- I might actually stand a chance to get my degree without crippling debt!"  
She fell asleep almost immediately once she laid down and got comfortable, shutting out the sound of Tracey taking back her idea and telling her it was too much risk.  
The drugs still were in her system and would linger for a long while- thank god it was Saturday.


	4. Vintage Sports Cars

It was the early afternoon the next day when she woke to the sound of her phone ringing. Her headache had only dulled to a third of what it was, but persisted thanks to how sleeping had kept her from eating or drinking any water.  
"Hello?" She answered groggily- still half asleep and seeing that she was alone in the room.  
"Rosa, it's your dad."  
" _Fuuuuuuuck_ ," She groaned haplessly, rubbing her still closed eyes. "Why do you have my phone number? What do you want _now?_ "  
"I thought we'd talk. I'm sending a driver over to you- meet him outside in a half hour."  
"Mmmokay." She nodded, hanging up soon after. "Wait-- fuck. What'd I just agree to?" She sat up. "Tracey?" There was no answer from the bathroom. She must have gone out to eat or something.  
Whelp... Nobody there to talk her out of it.  
Slowly she got out of bed and got dressed, threw on some fresh makeup, and walked outside to meet the cab driver; the same one who dropped her off.  
"Hola, hija," the mustachioed older man greeted, driving off as she buckled up in the back seat. Now that she was more alert, she could actually see him. He had to be in his seventies, and his face looked like a wrinkled topographical map. "Must be a busy day for you and Mr. Vercetti, eh?"  
She managed a thin smile. "I guess you could say that."  
"Are you two, uh, _doing business?_ "  
" _Nooooo_ ," she said. Did he assume she was a prostitute because of how she was dressed yesterday? "... We're having an awkward family reunion... Thanks for the ride again, I didn't catch your name last time?"  
"Umberto," he answered.  
_Hold the fuck up_. "Umberto Robina?" She asked.  
He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "Have we met?"  
"I'm Lita Salamanca's kid. Rosa."  
She saw his jaw drop and he took a longer look at her once they reached a stoplight. " _Hijo de puta_ , you really are hers... Where did you come from? How old are you?"  
"West coast," she answered. "I'm twenty two."  
He nodded. "Your mother had some big cojones to just leave, mamita. Why'd she go?"  
"I don't know everything," she said. "I just know she didn't want me to grow up in this town. Something about gangs and drugs and whatever."  
He asked questions for the rest of the ride, but she danced around some of them to avoid giving up where they lived. After all, she didn't know this man.  
  
Once they pulled up to the Vercetti estate on Starfish Island, she stared at the enormous house in awe. " _Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the Devil._.."  
Tommy stepped outside, hands in his pockets as he stood in the shade of the mansion's awning. The Florida sun was beating down as hard as ever, and the gleaming white exterior of his home was nearly blinding.  
"Come by Café Robina in Little Havana. We can talk more." Umberto said, offering a hand to her.  
"I'll stop by when I get some free time," she agreed, shaking his hand, thanking him for the ride, then heading up the front steps.  
_God damn, this place must've cost a fortune._  
"This is where you _live?_ " She asked. It was bigger than hers and the De Santa's house combined and made both look like shacks. Massive and unashamedly opulent.  
"This is where I live," he nodded, leading her inside and shutting the door. "I used to live here with your mom and we worked with some business associates here."  
"Like Ken and Paul?"  
He frowned. "How well do you know those guys?"  
"Well- I pretty much knew them since I was born. Mom said he helped her when he got out of rehab. She still works with Paul."  
"Doing what?"  
"Hell if I know. She never tells me. I just know it's something to do with the music industry."  
"Huh," he mused, looking almost impressed that the two men were useful when they weren't working for the Vercetti Estate. "Your mom really did good for herself."  
"Yup. Big house, nice car, lots of free time... So why'd you call me here? I don't know if you can recall in your old age, but I was pretty firm back in the strip club when I told you to fuck off."  
They stepped into his office. "Sit down." It was more of an order than an offer.  
She hesitantly settled into a worn leather couch by a series of security monitors. Cameras all over the inside and outside of the mansion.  
"I wanted to make you an offer," he said.  
"I don't want anything from you." Tracey's idea had sounded good when she was still a little bit messed up, but now she was having a hard time even remembering the details of the day before. All she knew was that her problems didn't start until she met him.  
"We both know you came to the club that night because you were trying to get a job there. Obviously. I'm glad it was me who showed up for that interview, 'cause anyone else would've hired you after having you on your knees. My kid's not gonna be a fucking stripper. The tattoos are bad enough-"  
" _Fucks wrong with my tattoos, old man?_ " She glared, rubbing her fingers over the realistic dead tree on her left arm. “Don’t get on my fuckin’ case because your generation’s uncool.”  
He rolled his eyes. Why did she have to be so goddamn difficult? He was almost grateful he missed her teenage years. "So, I started to do the math," he continued. "Marine biology isn't a cheap field of study. And you're in _my_ college. And you're trying to be a doctor in that field? It's no wonder you're desperate for cash."  
"Hold the fuck up!" Everything clicked into place. "You're the private owner of the university? You're the one who made it so fucking expensive?"  
He smirked. "I'm a businessman before anything else. And businesses thrive when the competition just can't compare."  
"You greedy bastard. Everyone bitches about milennials not having money, but then elderly fuckheads like you take everything we have because it keeps you in mansions and vintage sports cars!" she gestured to the security camera which showed a white 1987 Infernus in the driveway.  
"I couldn't give less of a shit about milennials-"  
"Exactly what I just said."  
"But you're my kid. And I'm gonna take care of you."  
Holy fuck, was he about to say he was gonna pay her tuition?  
"Like I said, I have an offer for you," he motioned for her to come over to his desk, and when she got up she saw two photos on his desk in a line. He named them left from right. "Giorgio Forelli and Joey Leone."  
"Ooookay," she nodded. "What about 'em?"  
"They're what's left of rivaling families."  
"Rivaling families? As in the mafia?"  
"Exactly."  
"Well shit," _here we go with this old man shit again_. “Should’ve seen that coming.”  
"Some of my guys have been seeing them in town, and I doubt they're here on vacation." Tommy said. "Your job is gonna be-"  
"Before you say anything else, I need to know what my compensation is. 'Cause it sounds like this conversation is leading up to you telling me to hang around them or some shit. And if I'm taking risks, I expect payment."  
"I'll pay you five grand just to sit near them and look pretty."  
"Then I need you to tell me who exactly they are and what you want me to do," she demanded, picking up the picture of Giorgio Forelli... She'd heard that name before. Forelli. Who mentioned it? And when?  
"Well, Giorgio, that _ungrateful_  prick-" Tommy began, "I helped some jurors make a decision back in the day to make sure he didn't go to prison. And what does he do? He rebuilds the Forelli family over the last thirty years so he and his band of assholes can come kill me for putting down his cousin Sonny like a rabid dog."  
"I know that name," Rosa said, head tilted and eyes squinted as she strained her memory. "Sonny Forelli. I've heard that exact name and I have no fuckin' clue who it is."  
"Used to be a friend of mine. Until he set me up to spend fifteen years in prison-"  
She nodded. "And that's why you're the Harwood Butcher."  
He nodded in reply. "That's why I'm the Harwood Butcher."  
"Fuck," She laughed incredulously. "Mom sure picked a winner."  
Tommy rolled his eyes. "I took _care_ of her," he insisted. "We were _happy_. And then she got pregnant. She never should've taken you away from me. If she hadn't, you wouldn't have been in a strip club trying to pay your way through school. She-"  
"Ohmygod, will you _shut up?_ " Rosa snapped, earning a dirty look from her father. "She did a good job! She did everything she could to make sure we were comfortable, and I ended up at that club because _I'm_ a fuckup and I always have been. She's the only person I know who could put up with both me _and_ you in a single lifetime."  
They stared each other down, pissed off, until Tommy let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes. "You even sound like her when you're mad."  
“She tells me I sound like you.”  
There was a short, awkward silence. His expression was unreadable. Somewhere between angered and...sad...  
“... Now tell me about this other guy."  
  
_"Get yourself some clothes and keep the change."_  
Partial payment up front was pretty cool, but surprising. He must've expected her to do the job without backing out.  
Go to the strip club tonight, listen to them talk, report it back to Tommy.  
It seemed simple enough. But she'd have to play dumb and seem like she wasn't eavesdropping- a little more effort than the Fleeca job. And less payoff. But she needed the money now more than ever.  
After all, he'd probably expect it all back if she didn't deliver. There would be no "But dad, I need money!" manipulation. He wasn't just a rich man, he was a drug lord and mafia don.  
Well... At least she wouldn't have to borrow the same dress from Tracey anymore.  
The one she found was 3/4 sleeve to cover the bruise on her arm, low cut, short, and had wide blue and white stripes with a single black stripe around her waist. Flattering and just right for a couple of old buzzards to assume she was a halfwit working in a seedy club. As shitty as this job would be, she at least wouldn't have to wait two weeks for payoff. Bills came fast.  
When she got back to the dorm, she saw Tracey in front of her laptop in her bra- and who she assumed would be Franklin on the other side of a video chat.  
"Oh shit-" Tracey gasped, quickly folding her laptop shut.  
Rosa, not having expected the moment, nearly doubled over in an ab-clenching cackle. " _OOPS!_ "  
"I didn't know how long you'd be gone!" Tracey defended, cheeks burning red as she pulled on the T-shirt she'd dropped near her feet. "Shit shit shit, nothing was happening!"  
_"Uh, yeah- nothin' was happenin'."_ Franklin's muffled voice agreed from the laptop's speakers.  
"Sorry, lovebirds, I was just here to drop something off. I'll leave you two alone," Rosa struggled to get the words out without bursting into another fit of giggles as she threw her shopping bag onto her bed and about-faced out of the room.  
  
"Sorry about earlier," Tracey said once Rosa came back two hours later with two cups of coffee in hand, one of which she passed to her roommate. "Thanks."  
"Well, it's a given now that you two are engaged and long-distance."  
"Where'd you go earlier, anyway? I thought you'd be passed out all day with how fast you fell asleep."  
"Went out to eat," she lied. She actually hadn't eaten until just before coming back to the room. She was just going to keep up the illusion that she would stay away from Tommy. Tracey might let slip to Michael that she was back in the game, and word would reach Lita. "Stayed out to get some clothes."  
"Special occasion?"  
Rosa feigned a smile. "I have a job interview tonight at a bar. I thought I'd get a new outfit."  
"Ohhh, exciting," Tracey nodded with her lips at the plastic top of her cup. "I'm gonna start getting ready for work soon. Mercedes called me and said she wanted me to take one of the VIP rooms today instead of the main floor. I think that means I got promoted."  
_Or she knows about tonight and wanted to keep me out of your sight._  
"That's great!" Rosa smirked. "Now you get _gold_ tassels instead of silver."  
" _Hey!_ "  
  
Tommy told her that she had to listen closely and carefully to the two men conversating; and repeat it back to him verbatim, if possible. Hard to do without being able to write anything down.  
She took a little too long getting ready, her hands were shaking with nerves so putting on eyeliner was a little bit of a task. Not to mention that she had to put in extra effort to conceal the bruising bite mark on the side of her throat. She had to wear her hair down to completely hide it, even with makeup.  
The cab ride only made the anxious vicegrip on her stomach even worse. She spent the whole drive sitting in the back seat and motivating herself to get into the role of the sexy girl at the club. This was gonna be... Awful.  
But if she was even a half decent actress, she could pull it off like she did in Los Santos at the bank.  
_Ohhhh, I'm so fucked._  
  
" _Alright, I'm a bad ass,_ " she tried to hype herself up, muttering under her breath as she stepped into the doors. " _I'mabadassI'mabadassI'mafuckingbadass._ "  
She was immediately hit with a bass boosted version of David Guetta’s Hey Mama blowing through the speakers and the bright neon lights inside hurt her eyes for a quick second.  
She took a moment to glance around the club to see who looked like the picture Tommy had shown her. _Joey Leone_ , she thought.  
There. On his way into a private room, with a man in a plain black suit. Bodyguard. Hopefully this VIP room wasn't the one Tracey was in tonight.  
She looked to the bar and spotted Mercedes Cortez behind the bar, who exchanged knowing glances with her. Rosa was certain that her dad and Mercedes communicated openly about his plans and that he'd instructed Mercedes to help Rosa if necessary.  
Hopefully.  
  
She followed the mafia don to the private room...  
Or at least she did at first.  
She chickened out and swiftly changed direction toward the bathroom as soon as one of his guys glanced in her direction.  
" _Come on, come on, come on! Don't be a fuckin' baby!_ " She scolded herself in the mirror just above a whisper. " _Just walk in with a drink, put it in his hand, sit next to him, and put on the charm._ "  
And possibly get stabbed for touching him.  
" _Do it for the money_."  
Which probably wouldn’t cover the hospital bill if it all went sideways.  
"Can you handle this?" Mercedes asked, seeming to come out of nowhere and surprising Rosa. She had another woman with her. A pretty black woman with long, burgundy dreadlocks draped over her shoulders, dressed to the nines like Rosa, and standing with her arms crossed and a giving cocky look to the younger woman. "I can send Avalon if you can't."  
Rosa looked her, then Avalon, considering backing out.  
Until she saw the look on their faces.  
_This was a test._  
They knew she'd back out. Tommy had someone else lined up to do it if Rosa couldn't handle it, and Mercedes was the last chance to back out.  
There was no coming back from this if she opted out. No paycheck. No bargaining.  
"I can do it." She said sternly to Mercedes, turning to the mirror to fix her hair and check her makeup. She even took a moment to adjust her breasts in her bra, to make them more prominent. An air of 'fuck you' brand confidence took the reigns, and she'd ride that wave as far as it'd take her. " _Fuckin’ watch me_."  
  
Apparently Tommy hadn’t intended on letting her do this alone from the start.  
Because Avalon had followed Rosa into the VIP room regardless of her choice. A second bodyguard was stationed out front, dressed in a different suit. Rosa assumed that each don brought only one man each.  
Mercedes sent them in with drinks in hand. Alcohol was sure to loosen their lips and make the two eavesdropping women seem less conspicuous. So once they entered, they each picked an old man and settled in with them.  
Leone was younger, in his fifties, maybe. Rosa sat on the arm of his chair, and he was… handsy.  
Avalon seemed to have no issue with Forelli. He didn’t even set a hand on her despite her laying her bare legs across his lap. But Rosa felt Don Leone’s hand on her lower back and he slowly moved downward every few minutes as if he assumed she wouldn’t notice.  
But now wasn’t the time to freak out.  
They talked on for a while about mundane things, occasionally taking chances to flirt with the two women- both of whom offered fake, girly giggles and bland, emptyheaded answers in response. The dumber the two men thought they were, the less they would suspect anything.  
Intelligence was their best weapon.  
“I think it’s time we start talkin’ business,” Don Leone said, leaning closer to Rosa. Meanwhile, Forelli looked uncomfortable with how little personal space Avalon had given him.  
_She’s not gonna get anywhere with him,_ Rosa thought. _He’s probably not into women._  
"Alright," Giorgio agreed. "I wanna start by saying I appreciate that the Leones were willing to work with us."  
"That motherfucker messed with all of us," Joey replied, opposite hand gripping the leather arm of his chair. "Your cousin, my dad."  
Cousin. Sonny.  
They were talking about Tommy? But he never mentioned doing anything to the Leones...  
"The casino was a huge hit. Especially to those Sindacco assholes. They're all but gone. Never liked any of 'em." Joey continued. "But the Forellis," he took a sip of his drink and tilted the glass toward Giorgio. "You, I could get behind. My dad had respect for you and your cousin."  
"I didn't hear that your father died until a few years ago. When was it?"  
"Back in '01," Joey said. "Some mute asshole shot him down and ran off with his wife. Never found him."  
Who the fuck could that be?  
Rosa and Avalon exchanged confused looks when the two men weren't looking. Neither of them knew.  
Meanwhile a girl who was all but completely naked walking into the private room from the small stage and started pole dancing to Meg Myers' Desire playing loudly through the speakers.  
"My condolences," Giorgio said. "We both lost the heads of our families around the same time. But I wonder if maybe, our friend Mr. Vercetti could be behind all the shit that happened. You mentioned a Carl Johnson. What if he was hired to fuck everything up? It was all within a few years of Tommy getting out of prison. And that rat fucking lawyer used to work for him."  
Rosa had to bite down on the inside of her lip to suppress a gasp. They were talking about CJ and Ken.  
Jesus fuck, what did they do?  
"Are you sure this all could be him? No one else?" Joey asked.  
"No, but he's our best guess. And he's still here. So we demolish everything the fucker owns and let him tell us who else is in on this before we deal with him."  
Honestly, with how they spoke so freely in front of two women they could only assume were strippers, it was no fucking wonder how most of them got killed off.  
"What do you think, gorgeous?" Joey asked, casually patting Rosa on the ass and leaving his hand there. She could feel an indent from a wedding ring on his hand. What a dick. "You think you'd let someone get away with hurting family?"  
"Oh, sorry, I wasn't really listening," she lied, providing a false smile and laying her arm across the older man's shoulders. "But I wouldn't let anyone hurt my family. I'd be, like, _so_ mad."  
_Little did they fucking know..._  
  
The conversation turned to talking to the women, as if vetting them to make sure they weren't smart enough to talk to the cops about what they heard.  
They feigned laughter, gave phony answers to personal questions, and kept bringing them drinks for the rest of the night until one in the morning when they left.  
Rosa and Avalon left the VIP room only after they were certain the dons had left the club.  
"You were tense as _fuck_ ," Avalon laughed.  
"Shut up, he kept grabbing my ass," Rosa blushed.  
"Not used to getting felt up, huh?"  
"You say that like it's something to be embarrassed of. Who even are you?"  
She smirked. "A friend of Mr. Vercetti's."  
"His girlfriend."  
"I wouldn't put a label on it."  
He had to be thirty or forty years older than her. Rosa couldn't judge. She was with Trevor. A twenty eight year difference in age. "I don't want to fucking know."  
Avalon followed her toward Mercedes at the bar. The club was closing soon but Rosa wanted a drink before she had to go home. She had class in the morning. Waking up would be a bitch after so little sleep.  
Mercedes gave her a shot of vodka and Rosa downed it gratefully, hoping it would offer even a small buzz within a few minutes.  
"So who are you?" Avalon asked. "I haven't seen you before."  
"Rosa Salamanca," she answered. "I'm from Los Santos." She didn't know if Avalon was aware of her relation to Tommy, but last thing she needed was some chick dating her rich dad thinking she was after an inheritance or something.  
"Avalon Charles. Little Haiti."  
"Local," Rosa noted, shooting a text to Umberto to pick her up.  
They walked outside. "Born and raised here in Vice City," Avalon said.  
"How old are you anyway? Kinda young for 'Mr. Vercetti'."  
"Oh babe, I'm grown. I'm thirty this year."  
Born a little before Tommy and Lita even met. Yikes.  
"You got a car?" Avalon asked, pulling Rosa from the math in her head.  
"Waiting on a cab." The Cuban replied.  
"I can drive you."  
"My cab should be here soon."  
"Suit yourself," Avalon shrugged. "See you around, babe."  
She walked across the street, got into a white 1987 Infernus, and drove away.  
Rosa's jaw dropped as soon as the car passed her up. That was Tommy's.  
"... **_Motherfucker_**."


	5. Old Man

Monday morning was rough.   
After going to bed around two, waking up at six, and starting class at seven, Rosa nearly fell asleep through a lecture. Focusing was damn near impossible with the notion if CJ and Ken being involved with fucking over the mafia. She thought those two wouldn't hurt a fly- but realistically, she knew from Paul's stories that it wasn't true.   
She just knew them as family members who helped raise her.   
They were all a bunch of criminal misfits. Herself included.   
  
Once she was done with her second class that day, she went back to the dorm to take a nap, then work for a few hours, then on to her final class for the day.   
Midway through, her phone vibrated in her bra and made her jump. She peeked at the screen to see a text from Tommy.   
"Meet me at my place in an hour."  
"Is there a reason you're wasting my time by looking at your phone?" Her professor called her out in front front of the class. All eyes on her.  
"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize _you_ were the one paying to be here." She said sarcastically as she texted Umberto for a ride. "Last I checked, I gave _you_ my money."  
Her professor shot her a nasty look, and the other students looked on in anticipation to see a response.   
Rosa got up out of her seat before any more words were said, gathered up her things, and walked out muttering " _wasting your time, that's real fuckin' cute_ ," under her breath.   
She was probably gonna skip that class on Wednesday and get notes from someone else.   
  
Tommy was out in back by the jetty behind his mansion when Rosa arrived. She found him sitting in a fold out chair, staring out at the sea.   
The water was crystal clear, and the waves were nice and gentle. She spotted a small school of fish picking at algae on the side of the jetty as she approached.  
"Snappers," she noted. "Mycteroperca microlepis."  
Tommy glanced back at her, removing his sunglasses and watching her sit near the edge of the water to observe the fish. But they scattered as soon as they saw her over them. "You know your fish."  
"Marine biology, remember?" She replied. "I always liked fish. My favorites are the ugly deep sea ones."   
He nodded. "How was the meeting?"  
"They think you had something to do with a casino. And the murder of Leone's dad. And Forelli hasn't let go of you killing his cousin."  
He looked confused. "I only did that last one."  
"I know. But try convincing _them_."  
"Shit," he muttered. "Alright, I'm gonna have to plan something out. Can you do this all again next time I get word of them planning to go to the club?"  
"Uh, no." She laughed, dumbstruck. "That fuckin' Leone guy kept grabbing my ass."  
"I'll give you another five grand to keep up the act."  
"Fuck, fine." Cash is king. "But if he tries to screw me, I swear to fucking god..."  
"Come on, he's like fifty."  
"Didn't stop my ex." She absently replied.   
Wait, fuck-  
"You dated a fifty year old?" He looked like he'd have a heart attack.   
"Forget about that, just pay me."  
  
The Avalon thing was never brought up. She'd put that out of her mind if she could.   
With just under five thousand dollars in her pockets, she felt light as air as she made her way down the steps of the mansion.   
A Kaufman cab pulled up to the estate.  
Strange, she hadn't called Umberto yet.   
But there was a passenger inside who stepped out of the back, cane in hand.  
He was short and fat with a receding hairline and big glasses.   
Lester Crest.   
" _What the fuck!?_ " She gasped.   
He visibly cringed when he saw her and tried to hail the cab he got out of, but the driver already pulled out onto the road.   
"What the shitting fuck are you doing here!?" She bounded down the remaining steps of the estate to reach him. By then he'd resigned to having to talk to her.   
"Nothing. But I could ask you the same," he replied shortly, pushing up his glasses. The Florida heat and humidity made him sweat, and his glasses kept wanting to slide down his nose. "I thought you weren't talking to Vercetti."  
"That's a lot less confusing than why you're fuckin' here." She glared. "Did someone tell you to check up on me?" She imagined Michael having an eye on her and Tracey-- or Trevor threatening the fat little man into monitoring Rosa because part of him still cared a little bit.   
"I'm here on business," he muttered. He began walking toward the mansion and motioned for her to follow. She walked next to him, instinctively planning to help him up the stairs if necessary, but not to go back inside.   
"Your dad needed 'an accountant' and I've worked with him before."  
She frowned. "Since when? Why didn't you mention this before in Los Santos?"  
"You don't need to know everything," he said, pushing his glasses up the sweating bridge of his nose. "Just know that we've worked together. And I take it that you work with him now too."  
"What gave that away?"  
"Why else would you be here other than to fall back into a lifestyle of poor choices? Not to mention that Tommy said he was expecting to hear from someone else today. Assuming that was you."  
"Sounds about right." Word would probably spread between their friends on the west coast if Lester mentioned seeing her to anyone. To Michael. To Trevor. "You can't tell anyone about this."  
"I wasn't going to," he assured. "What business I conduct and whoever is involved isn't anyone else's business... So what exactly are you doing?"  
"I'm not going to lie to you, it's exactly what you think it is."  
"Is Michael's daughter involved?"  
"Nope. Just me."  
"Then the only person you have to worry about is your mother." He nearly missed a step with his cane and stumbled a little bit. Rosa grabbed him by the arm to help steady him. "Thanks."  
"Yeah."  
"If I'm here, then I assume whatever he's having you do is going to become even more work. I only handle large amounts of money. I get a decent cut that way."  
"What do you think it is?" She asked.   
"Drugs, I assume."  
"Fantastic."  
They reached the top of the staircase and she started walking back down.   
"If you still have my number then I can be of some use to you. For a price."  
"Not interested, thanks."  
"The Vercetti name attracts a lot of police attention. I can persuade them to look the other way."  
She stopped in the middle of the staircase. "Okay. You keep the cops off me when things eventually escalate, like they _always_ fucking do, then I'll pay you. But not before then."  
"Deal."  
"How long are you gonna be in town?"  
"A day or two. I'm going back to Los Santos as business is concluded and I've had time to rest."  
"I could use some rest myself. But first-" she flashed a handful of money in one of her pockets. "I've got some business of my own to take care of."  
  
The first order of business was to pay bills.   
What she owed Tracey, some of her loan, phone bill, internet, credit card, then... That was it   
"There's still extra," she read over the totals over and over, shocked to see over an extra thousand dollars. She wouldn't put it in the bank- they didn't need to see the activity. Lester hadn't laundered it to make it look good to the feds.   
"Extra money to do whatever I want..." She mused, biting her lip. _Oh, the possibilities_. "Fuck yeah."  
A thousand dollars of disposable income.   
A back massage, a manicure, getting her hair trimmed, and a few new sets of clothes later, Rosa was riding high and had a few hundred extra.   
She even bought a new bathing suit, which she wore to Ocean Beach later that afternoon while Tracey was still in class.   
I could get used to this.   
  
_"Mr. Vercetti, I got some information on that address you asked about."_  
"Let's hear it." He'd been waiting on this for days. Now that Lester was gone, he had time to himself. He hurriedly got a pen and paper to write out any information.   
_"Name on the title is a Carl Johnson."_  
_Odd._ "Any other names on the title? How about phone numbers?"  
_"There's no associated landline. But there's two different cell numbers. One for a Tommie Vercetti, and one for a Lola Vercetti. Family members of yours?"_  
Tommy ignored the question, fixated on the names. "What's the phone number associated with Lola Vercetti?"  
His wrote down the number as his contact gave it to him.  
And there it was. A phone number he could call to have answered he'd wanted to know for close to twenty three years.   
_"-Mr. Vercetti?"_  
"Yeah," he said, rubbing his eyes and coming back to reality. He was in his sixties, but this moment was the first time he actually felt his age.  
_"Was there any other information you needed?"_  
"Just- how's the finances?"  
_"They seem to be comfortable. Every bill is paid on time. It's a nice house too. Rockford Hills. Rich area."_  
Good. Lita did good for herself even without him. He said once that she wouldn't be able to raise a kid without him to support them. Proved him wrong.  
Not bad for having been homeless at their daughter's age.   
"That's all I need to know. Thanks." Tommy ended the call and stared at the phone number in front of him. He dialed the numbers in, but his thumb froze over the call button.   
What would he even say to her...?  
Part of him was certain that she wouldn't even talk to him. He was an asshole the night before she left. He didn't even get the chance to take back what he said.   
He just woke up the next morning and she wasn't there- but the Infernus was found abandoned in the airport parking lot with three tickets on the windshield.   
The last thing he said to her was: "Fuck this, I'm going to bed. You comin'?"  
He remembered the grim look on her face. The way she set her hand on her still flat stomach as if to comfort their unborn baby.  
And the last thing she said to him was: "Yeah."  
He put his phone face down on his desk and pushed aside the notepad with her phone number.   
Maybe it was too late for them to speak again.   
  
  
"Hey Rosa, I didn't expect to see you here,"   
_Ah, Christ._   
Rosa had been sitting in the food court in the Vice Point Mall, staring at her phone until she heard the false cheeriness in the woman's voice.   
Avalon Charles approached Rosa with a couple of shopping bags in hand. Dressed in a low cut, forest green sun dress and expensive looking heels. Her red dreadlocks now replaced with black box braids. She must have just gotten them done.   
"Is there something I can help you with?" Anything for her to go away.   
"Well I saw you and I thought I'd come say hi and ask how you're doing." Avalon gave her a shit eating grin and invited herself to sit down.   
"Fanfuckingtastic," Rosa said, returning the fake smile and sliding her chair out. "I was just leaving."  
"Don't you wanna talk about Mr. Vercetti first?"  
Rosa had a bad feeling in her stomach. The best option was to leave, but her curiosity was piqued. "What about him?"  
"Well, I just thought I'd get to know my man's baby girl before he goes away."  
"Oh? Is he treating you to a romantic getaway before he turns a million years old and drops dead?"  
"No, actually, he's going to prison."  
_... What?_  
The younger woman's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"  
"Walk with me."  
  
Rosa followed silently as Avalon led her to her car. A dark red Bravado Buffalo. Practically brand new. She threw her bags in the back seat. "Get in, we're gonna go for a drive."  
Rosa didn't make any move to go. "Where are you taking me?"  
"Relax, we're just gonna talk and go for a ride out to the beach." Avalon said shortly. "Nothing else."  
Rosa hesitantly got into the car and thought up a cover story as she and Avalon buckled up and left the mall's parking complex. She wasn't Tommy's daughter, she was a new girl in town who needed money and didn't know what she got herself into.   
"So what about Mr. Vercetti?" She asked cautiously.   
"First I wanna tell you a little about me," Avalon said, not taking her eyes off the road. "I work for the FIB. Yes, Avalon Charles is my real name, and yes I am actually from here. I've been with your daddy for a year."  
"He's not my-"  
"Baby, I know who you are and I know what you've done. Ain't no point in lyin'."  
"Then fucking get on with it." Shit, she was getting arrested, wasn't she? She could just deny everything. The 'I know about you-know-what' thing was a common tactic the feds used to get confessions. If she just kept denying and hired a lawyer, she might stand a chance.   
"Don't be a bitch, honey," Avalon condescended. "Anyway, I'm gonna make you an offer. You keep playing your daddy's mob boss game, lead on Forelli and Leone, and then once I arrest all three of the fuckers, you won't go to prison for any more than, say, five years for helping him."  
Rosa stared, jaw dropped, at Avalon.   
_What._  
 _The._  
 ** _FUCK._**  
She leaned back into the passenger seat. "Why are you pretending to be his girlfriend, then? Couldn't you just arrest him with what you know?"  
"I mean, I  _could_ ," she mused. "But where's the fun in _not_ taking him for every bit of cash he throws my way?"  
"You gotta be fucking kidding me."  
"I'm not. And I know you're only around to pay for college. So we aren't that different."  
"We are _entirely_ fucking different, lady. Night and day difference. Pull the fuck over, I'm getting out."  
Avalon pulled off onto the side of the road, near the narrow part of the water between Vice Point and Leaf Links.   
Rosa got out of the car and leaned in to say one more thing. "I might be getting money, but at least I'm not fucking with a lonely old man to get it."  
" _Not anymore, right?_ " Avalon smirked.   
How could she possibly have known about Trevor? If she wasn't a fed, Rosa would've mangled her. Right then and there.   
"Listen up, bitch," the Cuban said. "If you do anything to get me arrested, I'm gonna see to it that Tommy knows who you _really_ work for. And the FIB? They're gonna know all about those Maracas and Anna Rex bags in the trunk. Y'know, the ones you paid for with money that's supposed to be evidence. Think before you fuck with a Vercetti." She slammed the door shut and started storming off in the direction they were going toward. She took her phone out of her pocket and began to text Umberto to come get her.  
Avalon rolled up next to her again and rolled down the passenger side window. "How 'bout we work something out then? You don't tell your daddy on me and I don't mention you even existing to the FIB? That way I can keep having my fun with his money and you-"  
" _Go fuck yourself_."  
"College is expensive, Tommie."  
Rosa froze, looking at the smug older woman behind the wheel.  
"How are you gonna afford it on a bookstore salary? And how are you gonna graduate if you're in prison? Your mama would be so sad."  
Rosa stared at her like she was suggesting full on grand larceny. "You fucking..." _Bitch._ "Fine. But if I so much as speak to a single cop, I will sell you out so fast, it'll make those fuckin' braids fall outta your head."  
  
  
_Eight._  
  
_Nine._  
  
_Ten._   
  
Rosa groaned, all but spent as she set down the barbell onto the hooks of the rack. That was the fourth set of ten squats.   
Up to 130 lbs.   
She was gonna be sore tomorrow.  
That was her last set for the day, and she wiped down the machine before she gathered up her things to head back to the dorm to shower.   
Her phone had been playing Slipknot through her headphones, but she got a few texts that she ignored until she was walking back to her room. Now checking.   
One from Tracey. _"im ordring pizza do u want any?????"_ followed by a short string of emojis.   
_"You know I do"_ Rosa grinned as she sent her response.   
Next message was from Lita. _"Hi baby i miss u! The house feel sso empty!! R U coming home 4 chrismas?"_  
She'd have to plan that out later.   
Next message from Tommy. _"Are you busy?"_  
And ignore. She hadn't talked to him in over two weeks. Not since the Avalon thing.  
He kept inviting her over to talk. She assumed he wanted to bond.   
Food was the better option.   
Tracey went to the lobby to pick up the food while Rosa was in the shower- and she ate ravenously once she was bathed and dressed. Working out made her hungry almost all of the time. There was barely any food left when they were through.  
They both laid in their beds and did homework, headphones plugged in. Tracey talked with Franklin through her webcam again while she worked, and Rosa let them have a private conversation by blaring music into her own ears.  
Until she saw her phone flash to life out of the corner of her eye.   
Another text from Tommy. _"Do I have to bribe you to spend time with your old man?"_  
Probably.  
She ignored that to respond to Lita instead. _"I'll ride with Tracey if she's going home but I don't think I can afford a flight to LS"_  
Yet another text from Tommy. _"My own flesh and blood leaving me all alone to rot. I know Lita would want you to visit."_  
Holy fuck, so dramatic. _"If I hang out with you, will you stop spamming me?"_  
 _"Yes."_  
 _"Is your girlfriend gonna try to tag along?"_  
 _"Nope."_  
 _Then I guess it's fuckin' decided._   
She saved her half-finished paper and closed her computer.   
"-for Christmas. I know we're gonna miss thanksgiving and whatever but we can probably drive to Los Santos."  
"Hey, Trace, I'm gonna go out for a while." She made sure to be out of sight of her friend's webcam while she changed out of her pajamas and put on some pants and a bra.   
"Mmkay," the blonde hummed, not looking up from her screen but continuing to type. "Text me if you need a ride back or anything."  
"Will do. Bye, Frank!" She called, hearing a goodbye from Tracey's laptop when she walked out.   
  
The sun was down and the night air was comfortably warm by the time Rosa arrived at the Vercetti Estate.   
She found Tommy out back again, with a second fold out chair, a bottle of what she recognised as expensive rum, and two glasses.   
"Traffic must've been bad," he greeted. He was already settled in with his drink, staring out at the lights from various boats on the sea at night. He must've done this often.   
"There was some road blockage," Rosa lied. She had actually debated not coming at all.   
"Glad you made it," he said. "Sit."  
She settled into the chair, and he poured her a drink. She nodded her thanks and took a sip.   
For being expensive, it tasted pretty crappy.   
"Did you call me out for another job?" She asked hesitantly. How much was Avalon's word really worth? Should she just tell Tommy about it now?  
"Just wanted to talk," he said. "You're twenty three right?"  
"Twenty two."  
"That's a lot of time to make up," he sighed, finishing his own glass and pouring another. "Tell me about yourself."  
"What about me?"  
"School life, boyfriends, hobbies," he listed basic things off the top of his head. He wanted more detail but it would've been weird to ask about them.   
"Well- VCU is pretty cool."  
"I mean school when you were a kid."  
Childhood details.   
She shrugged and told him stories she remembered from elementary school and up to high school. Friends she had, the boys she went out with, how she and Tracey weren't friends until a few years after they had first met.   
Tommy listened as if she was reading a book to him. He piped in with questions every once in a while.  
Why didn't Lita ever get married again? Rosa didn't know. She had boyfriends sometimes but didn't want to take that step again. Rosa liked some of those men too, they were nice to her. She wished one or two would've stuck around.   
Why didn't Rosa have any long term relationships either? She didn't want one. He sneered when she mentioned that sex was mostly what she wanted.   
"What about that ex you mentioned? The fifty year old. What was his deal?"  
"Doesn't matter. It's over. Old news."  
He frowned. "What did he do?"  
Shit, what _didn't_ he do?   
"Well, since you wanna know so bad, his name was Trevor." She described Trevor a little bit but left out details. No mention of the meth addiction, his history, or his obsession with the same neighbor who Lita had gotten with. But she did tell him about how he defended her once, how they spent a lot of days together, and that she ended up living with him for a few months, up until he became more aggressive with her. "So as soon as my head hit the wall, I knew it was all over."  
"I'd kill the fucker... Did your mom know about all this?"  
"I never told her that part. And there's no point in being mad about it. He'll kill himself someday," she murmured. Whether his heart gives out from the drugs or he gets into a gunfight he can't win. Trevor would someday die, and she'd probably never know until someone told her.  
Her eyes watered at the idea of hearing from Franklin or Michael that he was dead.  
_Fuck._  
"I need more." She grumbled as she poured herself a near full glass of rum. If she was lucky, getting drunk would take her mind off of him.   
In turn, she asked him questions. How did he end up in Vice City? Why did he stay here? Did he ever look for Lita when she left?  
"What bothered the shit out of me was hearing that you just stayed here," she said. "You chose _this_. Instead of us. Our lives ranked less than a mansion and a car."  
His first instinct was self defense. "Hey, _she_ chose to disappear. She didn't even want to try to have a kid here with me."   
"Because this city is shit!" Rosa snapped. "Two months in and some asshole spikes my drink. You're the guy who pushes blow in this city, you _know_ how these people are. You don't think this is a shitty place for a kid to grow up?"  
" _Every_ city has its shitty parts."  
"But _we_ weren't the epicenter of the shitquake in Los Santos! I mean- what if the feds were to arrest you and Mom? What would've happened to us?"  
Tommy sighed and shook his head solemnly, staring out at the sea. "I don't know." He had to admit that she had a point. Lita had taken their daughter away from the possibility of growing up without either of them. She grew up _out_ of his shadow. "But you're here now. And you're a smart, beautiful girl. And even if you think you're a fuckup, you're not. A fuckup doesn't get into college. A fuckup doesn't have friends or family who love her."  
They went silent for a few minutes, avoiding looking at each other while they had rum in their glasses.  
"Lita raised a good kid." He finally said.   
Rosa glanced over at him and saw him blinking hard. Was he trying not to get emotional? "Lighten up, old man," she half-joked. "It's almost the weekend."  
She stared out at the ocean, taking a long drink and feeling uncertain that she could keep up with her end of the deal.   
Maybe he really did wanna be a dad. 


	6. Morally Gray

"I need a pair of different eyes to tell me what the problem is with my club," Tommy said as he and Rosa walked into The Malibu in the afternoon while it was still empty. "I haven't been making as much money for the last couple of years. I can't find the problem."   
Rosa told Tracey she was out on a date with a guy in her class, so she wasn't expecting any calls or texts asking for her to explain her whereabouts.   
"Seriously? Where do I begin?" The young woman sighed, taking a look around the club while it was well lit. The carpet was dirty and had several holes and worn out spots. Stains everywhere. The stage area seemed larger now that she could fully see it. The DJ didn't even take up that much room the last time she was there. "Too much space is dedicated to the stage. Are there shows here or just DJs?"   
"Just DJs," Tommy replied.   
"Ditch the stage and set up the DJ in a smaller, out of the way location. The carpet is filthy, the decor is about thirty years out of style-- shit, the only thing in here that doesn't need updating is the DJ himself."    
"Do you know how much money that's gonna cost?" Tommy griped.   
Rosa crossed her arms and tilted her head at him. "Do you know how much more money you'll bring in with updates? Nobody even likes this place. It's just the only spot in town to party. If you clean it up, and make people _like_ it, your revenue is gonna double. Trust me. There's an entire college of people who want a better place to get fucked up. "   
Tommy looked around the club and finally noticed what she was saying, now that he looked close enough. He'd ignored the details when the bought the place out. He hadn't changed anything. Carpet cleaning kinda fell off the map after a while. It kept bringing in money, so he didn't pay any mind to it. But times and peoples' tastes changed.   
"I'll get somebody on it."   
They spent a lot of days together lately. It'd been like this for a few weeks.  
Tommy invited her out a lot to "bond", and she accepted it to humor him. Avalon occasionally tagged along for lunch, but mostly left them alone.  
Rosa had surrendered to her father's will of wanting to know her better. After all, she had decided that knowing him had its benefits.  
He saw to it that her bills were paid. And every time he gave her money, there was a little extra.  
And she made sure to have fun with it. Clothes, booze, events in town, concerts, tattoos, the boardwalk- there was plenty of fun to be had in Vice City. And she took advantage of it all.   
"So! Now that the dilemma is solved, what do you want to do next?" She asked. She didn't want to admit that she enjoyed the company. Tracey had been busy over the last week, taking up extra shifts to make more money to get a flight home for the holidays. Rosa told her that she was spending so much time away because she was seeing someone new- which Tracey was happy to hear.   
"I'll leave it up to you," Tommy shrugged. "You seem like you know how to have a good time."   
She smiled devilishly.   
He didn't like that look.  
  
"Keep up! C'mon, you old turd! Don't quit now!" Rosa jeered, ten feet ahead of her father and slowing her pace for him to catch up. They'd run three laps around the track and he was wheezing.  
He was never that good of a runner- especially now that he was in his sixties. But she just seemed to keep going...  
"Will you _stop_ calling me that?" He panted.  
"As soon as you run three more laps," she laughed. She barely broke a sweat. But she was definitely having a good time seeing him struggle. He repeatedly asked her why she made him do any of this, she gave him a bullshit excuse about it being healthy each time. "C'mon, didn't you used to be some kind of badass?" She teased. " You can't even outrun  me let alone the cops.  Let's go, _grandpa!_ "  
"Goddamnit-"  
By lap five, Tommy had to tap out. Rosa said he owed her another one the next time he decided to join her workout, and then she finished her sixth lap while he caught his breath.  
She slowed to a walk once she crossed the finish line, and walked over to where he sat down on the sidelines. "Easy," she panted, snatching up her bottle of water and chugging a third of it in one go.  
"I haven't had that kind of energy in a while," he said.  
"Well, if you can't keep up, I'm gonna need you to step it up, old man."  
"Are you ever just gonna refer to me as your dad? The 'old man' shit is getting old."  
"Hah! Not as old as _ you!_ "   
  
"How come you don't have a car yet?" He asked as they got into the Infernus. They waited to leave until they caught their breath and drank a good amount of water to replenish.  
"Can't afford one," she shrugged, wiping sweat from her chest with the neck of her tank top. "Free cabs ain't too bad, though."  
"I'll get you a car."  
"Do _not_ buy me a car," she ordered.  
"Who said anything about buying?" He smirked.  
Oh no-  
"You're gonna steal a car and give it to me? Are you insane?" She laughed. She remembered when Trevor did the same. Twice, really. "This isn't like a job where I get rid of any evidence, I need something I can keep!"  
Tommy suppressed a laugh as well, relieved that he got her to loosen up. She was a hard ass, but he decided he definitely liked her. She was like her mother. "Just trust me, I have my ways. What would you wanna drive? Name anything."  
_So many possibilities_. "Hexer," she answered.  
"A motorcycle?"  
"I used to have a Bagger back home. It got stolen." By Trevor when he was high as a kite, no less.  
"Done. I'll have one for you in a few days."  
"Shiiiiiiiiiieeeet, thats awesome. Thanks, really, you don't have to." She grinned as she stared out the window.  
This was weird. It felt like they were friends. Kinda.  
So this is what having a rich dad was like.  
Her phone rang where it sat in her lap and she knew the tone right away. Lita.  
She debated not answering, just letting it ring while she decided.  
"Not gonna pick that up?" Tommy asked.  
"It's Mom," she replied. The phone kept ringing.  
Tommy hesitated to speak again, stopped at a red light near her dorm. "Answer her. Go on."  
Rosa shrugged and ended up accepting the call. "Heeeey!" She tried to give a cheery greeting.  
_"Hi, mija!"_ Lita's voice greeted from the other side. _"I haven't heard from you in a while, how's school going? How's work?"_  
Tommy visibly tensed when he heard the faint sound of his wife's voice through his daughter's phone. He had secretly hoped that she would put the call on speaker so he could hear Lita's voice more clearly.  
"Work's going good," Rosa answered, smiling faintly. This felt weird. "School too, nothing interesting. I have the top grade in a few of my classes."  
_"Fuck yeah, my baby's a genius!"_  
Rosa laughed at her mother's loud celebration, and Tommy had to suppress a snicker. The more he listened to her, the more he noticed how much Rosa was like her.  
The phone call tool up the drive to Rosa's dorm, and she and Tommy parted with a silent wave while she spoke to Lita.  
_"You haven't seen Tommy yet, have you?"_  
"No," Rosa lied, glancing at his Infernus disappearing around a corner. "Been lucky so far."  
  
After her shower, Rosa got dressed and waited outside of her dorm for Tommy to get her again.  
Instead, Avalon came.  
"C'mon, beauty, let's go," the pretty black woman patted the passenger seat of the Infernus.  
"Why should I get in a car with you again?" Rosa asked skeptically.  
"Your daddy asked me to get you. All that father-daughter bonding got him tired. Besides, he's got a job for us."  
"Go away, I'll call a cab."  
"I thought I said I wanted to be friends,"  
"And I thought I told _you_ to go fuck yourself."  
Avalon shrugged. "If you don't get in, I could just tell him you don't actually want to be around him unless he's giving you money."  
Rosa's eyes narrowed, and she got into the Infernus, shooting Avalon a nasty look the entire time.  
"See? It's nice to be friends, isn't it? Buckle up."  
Rosa muttered curses under her breath as she fastened her seatbelt and they pulled away from the dorm.    
"What do you want now?" Rosa asked. If this became a trend, she'd be trapped by this woman.   
"I just wanted to thank you for not ratting me out," Avalon said. That was probably the first sincere thing she'd said since they met. "My work is important. I may be crooked, but I mean well, y'know? Government salaries ain't _shit_. Everybody skims some off the top."   
Rosa rolled her eyes and stared out the passenger window while they drove off of Prawn Island. "Does  everybody doing something suddenly make it okay to copy?"  
"No, but I'm working toward the cause of cleaning up the city. I was born here. I watched the decline of quality in the non-tourist areas while Tommy was in charge, so I'm sure you can understand why I'm workin' so hard to put him away. I never claimed to be an angel, and I won't now. But I know what _I'm_ about... Just like you."  
"Stop comparing yourself to me. You don't know me well enough for that. "  
"I don't," Avalon agreed. "But I know enough to see that you're just a broke kid trying to make ends meet. I don't wanna put you in prison, babe. I really don't."  
"Fuck, stop calling me 'babe', _what's your deal with that?_ " She rolled her eyes. "...You sure seemed pretty fuckin' amped to arrest me before. Why change your mind now? Ohhh, I get it- you must think I'm cuuuuute."  
Avalon smiled and had to hold back a titter. Maybe if Rosa was a little older, or if she was a little younger, she might have a crush on her. She was ballsy, intelligent, and attractive. Man or woman, that was all the right criteria. "I changed my mind because you're cooperative. And because you're just a kid."  
"I'm twenty two," Rosa defended with a grimace.  
"I think we can take this thing pretty far. I'm the only one who knows anything about you. The rest of the Bureau just cares about Tommy." They turned onto the bridge for Starfish Island. "And yeah, it's a little shitty to manipulate him, I'll admit it-- but he's not a good man. You know that; I know that. Is what we're doing _really_ wrong when he's worse than we are?"  
"It's hard to talk about morality with someone who is just as in the gray area as I am."   
"That morally gray part of you is why I know you ain't gonna quit on me. You want that money as much as I do. The only difference is that you  need it more. So I'll say it all again to make sure we're completely clear: You don't say a word about me, I won't say a word about you. We take the money, do what the man says, and when the time is right, I take him down and leave you out of it. Deal?"   
Rosa didn't answer her immediately.   
"Or do you _really_ want to have your daddy around when he didn't so much as look for you after you were born? Did you never have a father figure? Mama never remarried?"  
The Cuban's face formed into a hardened stare at the floor mats in the car. "Of course I don't want him around. I'm trying to go straight, but..."  
"Not doin' too good, huh?"  
"It's too expensive."  
"Exactly," Avalon nodded. "This arrangement benefits everybody."  
"Not Tommy," Rosa said.  
"Drug lords don't need us to give them benefits." Avalon gave Rosa a side-eyed smirk. "So are we gonna be friends and work together?"   
Rosa gave her an obviously forced grin. "I fuckin' guess so,  buuuuddy ."   
  
"You girls did alright last time," Tommy said. "I need you to do it all one more time."   
The sunshine harshly reflected off of the ocean and into the back windows of the mansion. Rosa sat out of the window's light on the couch near the security monitors. Avalon made herself comfortable on the edge of Tommy's desk; right in his reach where he could comfortably set his hand on her knee. The false glow on her face when he showed her affection made Rosa's face twist into a look of disgust, and she had to shift her gaze to her phone before she'd tell them to get a room.   
Avalon sure was invested in her role as a drug lord's girlfriend.   
"So," Avalon explained for Rosa. "I've been gathering up information, spying, hearing rumors, whatever you wanna call it- and I got word that Mr. Leone is still in town and is gonna be paying another visit to the Pole Position. It's just him and his bodyguard."   
"Okay?" Rosa asked, not looking up from her phone.   
"I know this is a big jump for you," Tommy began. "But I think you girls can handle it. You're tough. I wouldn't have either of you around if I didn't think you were."   
Rosa had a gut feeling that she knew where this was going, and the feeling escalated into an icy nausea as he described what he wanted them to do.   
Avalon already knew the plan beforehand. But hearing something and doing something were entirely different.   
"Anyone wanna volunteer?"   
The two women looked at each other with unease.   
Avalon felt genuinely bad for Rosa, who anxiously shook her leg where she sat on the couch and picked up a magazine to twist and turn in her hands.    
This was a lot to ask of _her_ at thirty, let alone his own daughter at twenty two. She was just a college student. How could he think she'd sink herself to this level just for money?   
"I'll do it," Avalon said with resolve. She would protect Rosa from the deed. "I can do it alone-"   
"No, I'll  do it." Rosa interrupted, expression blank and eyes glazed over. She barely looked like herself, like she just shut herself off and was on autopilot. "How much money?"  
"Each one is worth, say, ten thousand."   
"I want fifteen."  
"Ten," he insisted.  
"Fuck you! " Rosa snapped, throwing the now furled magazine at Tommy. He and Avalon both jumped to their feet when the magazine hit him in the chest.    
Rosa stood as well; and though she sounded angry, her face was still blank. "You're asking your own kid to do this, you're gonna pay what I ask!"  
Tommy looked ready to throw her out, until Avalon de-escalated the situation before he could speak. "Give her half of mine," She quickly said.   
All eyes on her. She felt her cheeks go hot. "She's right, it's a lot to ask. But she wants to do it. And I'll do it with her- I don't want her to go into this alone. But you and I know she needs the money more than I do, Tommy. Give her half of mine. I'll do it for five thousand. It's okay."  
He visibly seethed, a vain on his forehead clear as day as he slowly unclenched his fists. "Are you  sure? "  
"Yes," Avalon nodded, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.   
Rosa watched them look at each other for a quick second before he visibly eased up, settling back into his chair. Avalon stayed standing, ready to get away from him if things escalated again.   
"You're lucky she's here," he told his daughter. It was only half true. He also saw Lita in her in the moment and it disarmed him.   
Determined to have her way when she wanted it. As unmovable as a boulder.  
But that uncharacteristic rage? That was all him. He could see why Lita compared them.   
Rosa held her tongue, ready to curse him out again at the drop of a hat. But the promise of money was the only thing keeping her quiet.   
"Alright," he sighed, leaning back into the creaking leather seat. "Fifteen for you, five for her. I don't care how you do it, just make sure it happens. Then come back here and you'll get paid. This is happening  tomorrow night . Be ready, or you won't get anything."  
"Cash in hand, old man," Rosa glared, striding out of the office. "I'll bring back a fucking souvenir for you!"  
Avalon stared after her in astonishment. Rosa was a hothead. But over the top aggression like this...  
It's like it wasn't even her talking.  
  
Rosa trotted down the front steps of the mansion, seething, desperate to hit something.  
The anger inside came in waves, whether she was angry at Tommy for asking her to commit murder or whether she realized: she sounded like Trevor.  
"Fuck," she hissed once she reached the street. She leaned against the stucco wall that was Tommy's property line. "FUCK!" She muffled herself with her hand over her lips and tried to calm down.  
Nothing helped.  



	7. Natural Born Sinner

She worked out a second time that day. Anything to take her mind off of the task at hand.   
"This is different," the muttered under her breath, completely inaudible to anyone around her and to herself with how loud her music was in her ears while she clutched a fifteen pound weight to her chest and forced herself to do situps. As many as she could until her core hurt.. "This is a job. You're being paid to kill him."   
_ "You're fucking incredible!" _ She remembered Trevor's words clearly. Vividly- down to his facial expressions and the rough scratch of his stubble against her face when he dipped her down to the ground and kissed her. She remembered the bitter taste of his lips on hers and how he stunk of meth and lack of hygiene.  _ "You're a fucking maniac, I love you!" _   
She gritted her teeth and freed a hand to jerk her headphones out of her ears. The music and memories clashed with each other into an annoying racket that she couldn't stand anymore. The only one she could turn off was the music.   
_ Fuck you, Trevor,  _ she thought.  _ And fuck me for giving a shit about you. _   
She grunted with the effort of her hundredth-or-so situp. Her core hurt, but it was a rewarding pain like getting a tattoo. It made for an okay break from the memories.   
"You're being paid," she silently told herself. "It's gonna be different. Just don't puss out again..."   
Again, Trevor's words.   
"Just shut up and kill him, Tommie. Just make it fast and you get money."   
  
She was thoroughly worn out once she was showered, and collapsed in her bed still in her towel. She fell asleep before she could decide to get up and get dressed.   
She woke up a few hours later, early in the evening when Tracey finished her Saturday shift and came back to the room, whispering on the phone.   
"Yeah," She said quietly. "Sorry, I gotta be quiet. Rosa's sleeping... Okay, I'll call you tomorrow. Bye, Mom."   
"Rosa's awake," the brunette groggily answered, rewrapping her towel over her chest.   
Tracey briefly pulled the phone from her ear. "Sorry, I meant to keep quiet."   
"It's cool," Rosa yawned, getting up and grabbing a T-shirt and clean panties to put on. She dressed in front of her friend- she was a stripper, it's nothing she hadn't seen before. "How's your family doin'?"   
"They're okay, I think," she said. "They're pushing Jimmy to go to college now. Can you imagine? He'd be playing that stupid game and never get anything done."   
"I mean- he could go to school to design video games since he loves them so much." Rosa suggested. "Maybe pitch that idea."   
"Eh, he can figure it out on his own," Tracey sighed, changing into a comfortable pair of shorts and her VCU hoodie. "Are you gonna come home with me for the holidays?"   
"I think I might stick around here."   
"Your mom misses you."   
"I know. I can go home later."   
Tracey frowned. "Can you afford a plane ticket?"   
"I should be able to."   
"If you're sure. Oh, by the me and Franklin finally picked a date. We're gonna get married next summer. July tenth."   
"2016?"   
"Yup!"   
"I hope to be a bridesmaid."   
" _ Bitch please _ _,_ you're my maid of honor!"   
Rosa smiled so happily that it seemed like her troubles faded away just for a moment.   
  
The next evening,  Rosa and Avalon went to the club together in her red Buffalo. They parked a little ways off, to keep the car out of sight. They planned for the cops to show almost immediately, and would have to run and hide as fast as they could.    
"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Avalon asked, sounding nervous for the first time since Rosa met her. She always seemed so confident, so in control. The tables were turned.    
"Don't worry about me," Rosa said irritably. Her own nerves were getting to her now that the time had come. Her heart was pounding and she could feel the trembling of anxiety all through her body. "Just don't fuck this up."   
"I won't if you won't," Avalon muttered, letting out a sigh as they walked up to the front doors of The Pole Position. "This was never part of my plan..."   
Rosa, however, had already steeled herself. She touched the folding knife clipped onto the back of the neck on her dress, the cold steel of the handle against her upper back reminded her that it was secure and hidden under her long, thick hair.    
Leone would be her fifth.   
And then what? Would she do Forelli too? Would Avalon do it so she wouldn't have to?   
Either way, it was ten thousand for each one.    
And she wanted that money. Badly.    
"Life has a way of fucking with plans. Let's get this over with." Rosa pushed open the doors and she and Avalon entered the club. Rosa immediately grabbed a drink from Mercedes and acted again as if it were service for Mr. Leone to get past his bodyguard.    
  
Avalon's part of the plan involved the guard. She waited a minute or two after Rosa entered the VIP room to move.   
She gave him sly, flirtatious looks from halfway across the room until he finally noticed her.    
She was good at feigning interest, and he bought it immediately. She saw him purse his lips, stare attentively, and shift uncomfortably until she decided to move on him.    
"You look tense," she put on a false, disarming smile. "You wanna get a drink?"   
"Can't," he said, trying to inconspicuously glance down at her breasts. "I'm just supposed to stay here."   
"Well maybe I can help some other way," she suggested.    
His eyes widened slightly. A micro-expression she knew well.    
"Uh-" he began to protest.    
"C'mon, it'll just be a minute or two," she playfully urged, gently pressing herself against him and briefly running her perfectly manicured fingers against the front of his pants.    
That swayed him. Leave it to Liberty City mafia to have shitty guards.   
He glanced back at the door of the VIP room, then back at her- making up his mind. "Okay, real quick."   
_ Bingo .  _   
  
She led him to the mens' bathroom, a place that would be easy to clean later.    
She kissed him the moment her heels clacked on the tile, and he feverishly reciprocated. She kept his hands from moving any lower than her breasts as she sat herself onto the sinks and he stood between her legs.    
She let out moans to keep him going, and he kissed down to her neck.    
_ Gotcha . _   
While he was preoccupied and his vision was limited, she found the switchblade taped to her outer thigh, carefully peeled it off, sprung the blade, and...   
"Y'know, you're gorgeous for a black girl..."   
She gave him a nasty look while he couldn't see.    
_ Oh, you just made this a lot easier...  _   
  
Leone recognized Rosa immediately and welcomed her to sit in his lap. She absolutely didn't want to, but the close range was perfect. He drank and flirted with her while the stripper on the small stage danced to In This Moment's Natural Born Sinner. She played along well, nerves making her deceptively giggly. He kept his hands near her lower back- thankfully.    
"Y'know, I think I'd like to have the room just to us two." He suggested.   
_You and me both, motherfucker_.    
"I can make that happen," she said.    
She told the dancer to leave, and Joey immediately pulled Rosa closer. Her pulse was pounding in her ears. If Avalon had done her part, this was it.    
She gladly moved into him, pulling up her right dress just enough to allow her legs enough room to straddle him where he sat.    
His hands went to her ass again as their lips pressed together. She already hated herself for this, but she could come to terms with it once it was said and done.    
He was so involved with moving her against himself that he didn't notice her sliding her folding knife from the back of her dress.    
He didn't even notice the click of the spring assist.    
"You know, it's not my first time, but I still don't do this very often," she said just above a whisper.    
She grabbed a fistful of his hair and tilted his head back. She kissed his stubble ridden Adam's apple, arching her back away to make room between them.   
"Could've fooled me," Joey groaned, loving the ferocity she showed. He hadn't had a young woman in a little while.    
This, and the drink she brought, finally going to his head? Paradise.    
"I didn't mean this part," she said. She pulled back from him in the dark room, and he was so high in the moment that he didn't register the flash of pink stage light against the steel of the blade until it was slashed through the air.    
Suddenly he couldn't breathe. Suddenly his throat felt like it had been torn open. Suddenly he was struggling to cough up his own blood flooding down his trachea. He shoved Rosa to the floor and stood up in a blind panic, hands clasped over his throat and gurgling helplessly as blood spurted through his fingers and all down his shirt and sleeves, onto the floor, and onto Rosa until she scooted away from him.    
The last thing he saw before he blacked out and collapsed was Rosa getting to her feet, the front of her dress and her upper chest sprayed red from the initial gush of arterial blood.    
Rosa watched, unable to tear her eyes away while Joey Leone crumpled to the floor, gurgled on his own blood, and spasmed until he finally died.    
"... I was talking about that part." It would've been funny if it weren't so horrible. Really.   
  
A girl screamed somewhere else in the club, bringing Rosa partially out of her haze.    
"Rosa!" Avalon darted in through the door, freezing immediately when she saw the younger woman standing over Leone's body. Blood rapidly pooled around him, and was all over Rosa's front. "Jesus fucking Christ- stay here!"   
Rosa nodded, eyes wide as Avalon disappeared from sight and came back moments later with a leather jacket which she helped Rosa put on and zip up to conceal the blood while panic and confusion began in the rest of the club. Someone found the guard's body by now. She still had the knife in hand. Avalon took it from her and shoved it and the closed switchblade into the pockets of the jacket.    
"We need to get out of here," the older woman said shakily, pulling Rosa along. "The cops are on the way by now."   
  
Rosa didn't remember leaving the VIP room, but she did remember seeing people screaming and running to get out.    
Avalon accidentally let go of her sleeve when a girl struggling to tie on her bikini top ran through them.    
Before she could catch up to Avalon again, she saw a familiar face.    
Tracey De Santa, who accidentally collided shoulders with her, and looked shocked to see her friend there. " _ Rosa!? _ " She gasped, not even audible over the loud music. But Rosa could read her lips. It was Saturday, why was she working tonight? "What are you doing here!?"   
Rosa turned and ran after Avalon. She'd come up with something to tell Tracey later.    
  
They took off their shoes and carried them so they could run to the car. They heard sirens approaching quickly from the North. Avalon sped off going along the coastline just to the edge of Washington Beach.    
They crossed the bridge to Vice Port, no longer hearing sirens but knowing the search wasn't off yet.    
They drove the car into the garage of the boat yard on the far South edge of the island, where Tommy kept a couple of vessels.    
And they waited.    
It took Avalon a few minutes for the adrenaline to wear off, and she got out of the car and puked against the wall of the garage. She'd never killed anyone before. She'd seen plenty of crime scenes, but this was different. Horrible. She didn't know how to react while her victim's eyes glazed over with death in front of her. She didn't even have any blood on her hands, did that mean she was good at killing? Rosa was a complete fucking mess and-   
When her stomach was empty and her dry heaving ceased, she returned to the car and debated what she'd do with the money Tommy was going to pay her. Maybe a vacation. Something to take a break from this dirty work.   
"You okay?" She asked after a few minutes of dead silence. "You've been quiet the whole drive."   
"I'm good," Rosa said plainly. She'd been staring down at her phone since they got into the car.   
She ignored a flood of texts from Tracey for the time being. "I could go for a smoke."   
Avalon stared at her, clearly concerned. Why wasn't she freaking out? She cut a man's throat and he bled out on her.  _ ON HER _ .   
She didn't seem like her usual gruff self.   
Instead she seemed... Neutral. Too neutral. Dismal and tense, in a way. Like back in the mansion when the task was presented. Only now... Empty.   
"Are you sure? You just killed someone."   
Rosa shrugged nonchalantly. "He had it comin'."

They sat silently for a few seconds, Avalon stunned.    
"I think the cops finally fucked off," Rosa said. "We should meet up with Tommy."   
"Why aren't you as freaked out as I am? You slit a man's throat. I just-"   
"Avalon, I'll let you in on a lil' secret," Rosa said, excited to find a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in another pocket of the stolen jacket. She lit up, regardless of whether Avalon cared if she smoked in her car. "He was number five."   
Avalon looked horrified. "Number  _ five? _ "   
"Sí, numero  _ cinco _ ," Rosa confirmed. "I don't suppose you knew that already?"   
"No," Avalon shook her head. She didn't want to believe this to be true. Rosa was a hard ass and everything, but she didn't seem like murderer. She was only twenty two. "Who...?"   
"Nobody important. Drug dealers. They attacked me first. I defended myself." Rosa chuckled, finally seeming to have an informational upper hand on the FIB agent. How much did she _really_   know? "You gonna arrest me?"   
Avalon wanted to turn her in, she wanted to know everything that could fill the previously unknown gaps in knowledge about Tommie R. Vercetti, but her conscience told her not to. They had struck a deal. And Rosa was making good on her end so far. If she were to have her arrested, Tommy would provide her a good attorney. He could pay her bail easily. He could have her killed if Rosa dropped her name. Rosa might kill her here and now in the boat yard if she doubted her.   
"No," Avalon said against her better judgment. "I won't have you arrested. But if you cross me, I won't hesitate to kill you myself. Okay?"   
"Same goes for me," Rosa agreed. "I guess that makes us friends for life, then. Drive."   
  
They drove cautiously back to Tommy's mansion, where he was waiting for them in his office.    
He didn't ask how it went.    
He knew the job was done when he saw them.    
The fear in Avalon's eyes and the dead-eyed stare look in his daughter's made that clear.    
He didn't think they would come back like this. He thought they could brush it off as easily as he had when he was twenty. He actually felt remorse. He was sorry for asking them to do this...   
"Let's talk about this," he said. "It might help put it in perspective."   
"I don't really want perspective right now," Avalon said tiredly. Her face was ashen, like she wasn't done throwing up yet. "I think I need to sleep this off."   
"I'll come upstairs soon," he said.   
"No, I-I'm gonna sleep at my place tonight, baby. Gotta water my plants." A lie. Avalon just wanted to be away from everyone and everything. Forever. Or for as long as she could get away with before she'd put Tommy away for life.   
"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow?" He asked.   
"Tomorrow," Avalon agreed, turning on her bare heel and leaving.   
Rosa, who was scratching at the dried, flaking blood on her chest remained, seeming not to pay any mind to the older adults in the room. She noticed a wedding ring in her pocket, then vaguely remembered picking it off of Joey Leone's corpse.   
"Are you okay, kid?"   
"I'm  fuckin' _ great _ . Where's my money?"   
"I'll get it to you tomorrow."  
"I want it now," she smiled, dropping the still bloody wedding ring on the floor in front of him. "I gave my service, I want payment."  
"I'll take care of it, Tommie," he insisted, realizing what the reddened gold ring was. The souvenir she promised.. "Go home. I'll see you tomorrow."   
The way she smiled made him uneasy. Like she wasn't done killing yet. "Okay," she said, unusually chipper. "See you tomorrow, _Tommy_."  
  
She waited outside for a cab, smoking cigarette after cigarette and thinking about what she'd do with the money first. Bills, of course, but that would leave thousands over.    
Another tattoo to complete her sleeve on her left arm?    
New hairdo?   
Clothes?   
Drugs?   
Fuck it, she killed a man tonight, she earned at least a puff off of fat ass blunt.  
Or a line of-- No, she didn't need to go to fuckin' rehab again.   
Last thing she needed was Tracey passing the word on to-  
Her phone chimed in her pocket.   
Tracey.   
_"u staying @ ur boytoy's tonight?"_  
Rosa began to text a yes to her, but was interrupted. "Need a ride home?"   
Rosa didn't so much as cringe at the sudden intrusion, instead peering over at Avalon and dropping the butt of her last cigarette before smothering it with the sole of her stiletto.   
"I'd appreciate one." Rosa nodded. "I thought you went home already."   
"Decided to check on you before I left."  
"How fuckin' nice of you, my friend."


	8. Coming Out

Avalon didn't speak on the ride to VCU.   
Rosa, however, was already talking about what she was going to spend the money on. "I was thinking maybe I'd get one of those dumb ass hoverboard things- you know, with the two wheels. Or a smart watch-- or those bad ass heels with the red soles!"  
Avalon tuned her out. She had to. It was unbearable to hear Rosa move on so quickly while she was still fucked up. The fuck was her deal?  
She couldn't hear Rosa speak over her memory of the sound of the guard's body hitting the tiled floor of the strip club's bathroom. The sound played on repeat. Over and over. She felt like she could still feel his hands on her.  
"Avalon."  
The utterance of her name pulled her back. She was so zoned out that she didn't even remember getting to campus and parking outside of the dorm. "What?"  
"What are you gonna do now?"  
The Haitian woman sighed and carelessly rubbed her eyes and smudged her makeup in the process. "I don't know. I need time to come down from this. I'm gonna keep my head down for a few weeks. Don't tell your dad that- tell him I'm visiting family or something."  
"So, lie for you?" Rosa smirked.  
Avalon snapped at her. "You're so good at it, aren't you?"  
There was a moment of silence.  
"Walk with me," Rosa finally said, getting out of the car. "I have some insight."  
Avalon followed on a whim, not really thinking about it.  
"I know how you feel," Rosa began. "I felt the same way after my first time. But you'll get over it. There's gonna be a lot of nightmares and you're gonna remember the gunshots-" she stopped herself. "Well- not _gunshots_. You're gonna remember sights and sounds above all else."  
This was lost on Avalon, in one ear and out the other- which was good for Rosa, because how she dwelled on recovery had reminded her that she never really did recover. She still dreamt of Sandy Shores and The Grand Senora Desert. She still remembered the sun beating down on her scalp and shoulders when she stood over the bleeding bodies of four dead men. The sunburn at the parting of her hair lingered for several days and reminded her that it wasn't just a dream, but reality.  
"This is me," she said once they reached her door. "Thanks for the ride, you can go."  
"Before I go, I wanna know what did you do to distract yourself from feeling like... Well- from remembering?"  
Rosa frowned, surprised that the older woman wanted advice. "Well. You're government, so I wouldn't suggest doing drugs. I know they piss test you regularly. Other than that: I drank. And I fucked. You should give that a sh-"  
She was stopped by Avalon pushing her against the doorway and kissing her. Hard. Apparently deciding to give fucking a try.  
But ultimately it was to shut her up. Avalon had wanted to do that since they left the boat yard.  
Rosa let out a muffled yelp, and before she could even decide whether she wanted to stop it or not, the door opened behind her and Tracey stood inside their room, jaw dropped when she saw them connected at the mouth.  
Avalon, suddenly ashamed, pulled back from the Cuban- leaving Rosa wide eyed and red faced.  
The worst part was that she kind of liked it.  
"Oh..." Tracey said slowly. "Sorry... I didn't..."  
"It's okay," Avalon said. "I was just leaving. Take care of yourself, Rosa. I'll see you when I see you."  
Rosa was beyond stunned. Mortified... And kind of turned on...  
"So..." Tracey said once her roommate came into their room and the door fell shut. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
"Huh?"  
"You're _gay!_ You're gay and you're seeing a girl from the strip club, that's why you were there tonight, right?"  
Holy motherfuck, Tracey filled in the blanks for her. The perfect lie. "I'm not gay, I just... I think I kinda like girls too..."  
Well... After a moment like this, it didn't exactly feel like a lie or cover story. If she weren't busy brooding, and if it weren't with her dad's fake girlfriend, it might've been kinda nice.  
"Does your mom know?"  
Rosa shook her head. "You're the first, soooo... Keep it to yourself. What happened at the club, anyway? Why was everyone running and screaming?"  
"Oh!" The blonde gasped. "Double murder. Two guys from a gang were stabbed and the cops came and questioned everyone. You must've missed them."  
Thank God for the jacket she still had on or else Tracey would've seen Joey Leone's blood all over her. "Did you tell anyone you saw me there?"  
"No, I was too busy telling the police I didn't know anything."  
Thank fuck.  
"Oh. Well, I had to run... Me and my girlfriend were going back to her place. We had no idea there was a murder." Ugh. Why'd it have to be Avalon? An FIB agent...  
Tracey nodded in understanding.  
"I hope you don't think any different of me."  
"No! You're still my BFF. Just don't try to hit on me," she giggled.  
Rosa hid a roll of her eyes. _Ha fuckin' ha, you ain't even my type._  
  
Rosa waited until Tracey was in bed to carefully clean off her bloodied outfit. She took an uncomfortably cold shower to hide that she was scrubbing blood off of her dress so the rest would come off in the wash. And once she was clean, she brushed the taste of the people she'd kissed that night out of her mouth.   
Leone and his booze taste and Avalon's sticky, peachy tasting lip gloss.  
What a fucking night.  
She couldn't wait for the next chance to get drunk.  
And even better: the payoff.  
  
Rosa skipped class and work in the morning to see Tommy.   
Fifteen thousand dollars would tide her over for a good while.  
She brought the knives to him, so hopefully he'd help her dispose of evidence.  
She'd keep the leather jacket. Maybe get it tailored to fit better. It was an expensive brand, and the black lining inside wasn't ruined by the blood. Fuck it, what would it hurt to keep a souvenir for herself?  
Tommy did have a way to hide evidence after all. They got into his car and drove to Vice Port.  
"That's where Mom used to live?" She asked when the drove past Little Havana.  
"Yeah," he answered. "We'll drive by her old place on the way back."  
"I promised Umberto like a month ago that I'd come by his place."  
The rest of the drive was quiet. Rosa absently opened and closed the knife she'd used to kill Joey Leone. Still stained with dried blood.  
When they reached the boat yard, they got into the more recreational looking boat- an old 1985 Jetmax. Well maintained and still pearly white.  
They rode out along the coastline to the edge of the downtown area, just about a half mile out onto the ocean from Hyman Memorial Stadium.  
They each used a bleach spray and rags to clean blood and fingerprints from the weapons, and then dropped them overboard.  
Rosa watched the blades rapidly sink down and disappear into the depths of the ocean.  
"So... What's next?"  
  
What came next was partying. Lots of it.   
Rosa often invited Tracey to join her, but the blonde declined most of the time because of work or because she planned on a video chat date with Franklin.  
Rosa quit her job at the book store within a few days after Tommy had put cash in her hand. Whenever she left, she told Tracey she was going to see her girlfriend- which she believed.  
But she avoided Avalon. And Tommy too.  
And with The Malibu closed for renovations, Rosa spent time in every other hole in the wall bar she could find. She skipped a lot of classes but kept her grades afloat, just barely. At least she'd graduate if she kept this up.  
Tommy called often.  
She ignored most of his efforts to contact her. She sent him straight to voicemail nearly every time.  
He sent people to find her, but she avoided them with ease.  
Days passed and faded into each other. Just like the last time she was rich and unemployed.  With _Him._  
  
When the morning sun hit her eyelids, she opened them slowly to keep a headache from a vicious hangover at bay.   
It must have been a good night- because she could barely remember how she even got there.  
This was an at least four times a week occurrence. Except today was a little different.  
Where was she, anyway? She usually woke up in her dorm, still in her clothes and shoes. But she was naked and in someone else's bed.  
She went home with some guy and couldn't even remember his name, let alone the slurred small talk that led to them going back to his place and having sex.  
She looked over at him as she stretched out her legs.  
They were sore. Goddamn, what did they do? How long were they going at it that her legs were sore?  
Ohhh... It wasn't just the leftover vodka in her bloodstream talking, he was actually pretty good looking.  
Skin a little lighter in color than her own, dark wavy hair, strong jaw-- Nice.  
Too bad she couldn't remember much about the sex other than the grand finale.  
She silently climbed out of his bed and put on her scattered clothes, piece by piece as she found them.  
The neon orange wristband on her left arm reminded her that she went to the old biker bar, The Greasy Chopper, last night.  
"Morning," the drowsy greeting from the man she woke up with interrupted her thoughts.  
"Hey, sorry. I'll be out of here in a few minutes," she smiled tiredly. She was certain that her eyeliner coated her entire upper half of her face. She hadn't seen a mirror yet.  
He grinned and turned onto his side to watch her dress. "Rosa, was it?"  
"That's right," she nodded, smiling back. He had dark brown eyes like her own. Pretty. "I don't remember much of last night."  
"Do you remember the part of last night when I told you my name?"  
Rosa shook her head and pulled on her Love Fist T-shirt. "Dude, I barely remembered _my own_ name when I opened my eyes."  
"I'm Omar," he laughed. "Omar Morales."  
She stepped into her shoes. "Nice to meet you, Omar... _Very nice_ , I'm guessing."  
" _Very_ nice," he confirmed, shooting her a wink. "Wanna go get breakfast?"  
"Can't. I have class in-" she glanced at her phone. Five missed calls. Two voicemails. It was nine in the morning. "-half an hour. Shit. I'm gonna be late."  
He left his bed. Naked.  
_**Dude**... Go, me._  
"How about tomorrow?" He asked, pulling on a pair of boxers.   
"I thought the point of one night stands was to part ways after the sex," she chuckled.  
"Well you're so hot I was hoping to score a _two_ night stand."  
She was taken aback by his answer. Smooth motherfucker... She couldn't stop smiling. "Maybe if you ask _really_ nice and don't let me get as messed up as I was last night, I might say yes."  
"Would you like to have a completely sober date and maybe stay the night again?"  
"Sounds good to me."  
  
The missed calls and voicemails were as follows:  
A call from Lita, no voicemail.  
A call from Jimmy De Santa, with a voicemail asking for some input about going to college for game design.  
A call from Tracey, no voicemail. Rosa assumed she was wondering where she slept.  
And two calls and one voicemail from Tommy, asking where she'd been for the last month. He said he'd send people to find her if necessary.  
So she skipped class, picked up her Hexer, and drove out to his mansion.  
If visiting would shut him up, she'd make an appearance.  
  
"So what do you want now, old man?" She asked, skipping the greeting and making herself comfortable on the couch in his office. "You want me to kill someone else? Get felt up by another older man? Or do you need a kidney and I'm the only match?"  
"I wanted to check on you," he said. She was acting weird. More aggressive than usual- just like the last time he saw her.  
He thought she'd be over it by now.  
"Well, _here I am_ ," she offered a condescending smile. "I'm great. Can I leave?"  
"Have you heard from Avalon?"  
"She went off the radar. Said something about visiting family." She'd at least cover for her partner.  
Tommy didn't seem satisfied with that answer.  
Rosa did a lot of thinking about Avalon during the last month. The way she was shaken by the events at the club. She probably dropped investigating Tommy all together.  
Rosa felt bad for her. She was probably trying so hard to get Tommy. Being a woman, especially a woman of color, meant having to prove yourself twice as much to get half of the respect of your colleagues.  
Rosa learned that when she still worked in Los Santos in a minimum wage job. How much worse was it in a government job?  
"She hasn't picked up her phone." Tommy said quietly.  
"I take it you want me to find her?"  
  
Born and raised in Vice City, she said. Visiting family might not have been a false alibi, then.  
That meant she could be in one particular place: Little Haiti.  
She wasn't in a rush or anything. She went back to her dorm to shower and change clothes first.  
After that, the ride felt long. And slow. And dreadful. She wasn't sure where to look first, but she'd look for Avalon's car.  
Haitians stared at her with eyes like hawks as she ride through. She wasn't welcomed even slightly.  
This was an area filled with a gang that didn't like Cubans. Lita once mentioned this. She was with the Cuban gang when she was younger- Los Cabrones. And Rosa had her mother's face. The last thing she needed was someone to recognize Lita Salamanca.  
However, there was also the possibility of everyone in town knowing her instead as Lita Vercetti: wife of infamous drug lord Tommy Vercetti.  
Her phone rang in the pocket of her leather jacket, and she pulled over to answer it  
"Hello?"  
"The dead been talkin' about you, Tommie." An elderly woman's voice said though a thick Haitian accent. "Look for the Voodoo. We can talk."  
"What the fuck?" Rosa frowned. Her question went unanswered, the call was ended.  
_ Look for the Voodoo.  _ Seriously????? The fuck is that supposed to mean???????  
She peered around her surroundings. A couple of men stared at her. She didn't like that. If it weren't for the helmet on her head keeping her face obscured...  
Then she caught the faintest shade of red in a small block of houses.  
An old, 1979 Voodoo. Dark red.  
Something about this just made sense.  
Rosa drove closer, pulling her bike up to the curb and walking up to the car. Parked beside it was another car with a tarp over it. She pulled up the corner to see that it was Avalon's red Bravado Buffalo. The engine was cold. It'd been there for a while.  
_I'm gonna get myself killed_ , she thought, cautiously venturing up to the door. The house was flimsy and tiny. Old. Like maybe forty to sixty years old considering how unkempt the area was. The city didn't care for refugees, they never had. Black or brown. These were the poorly maintained neighborhoods and were never part of tours. Another reason to hate this town. Openly racist Southern politicians.  
She didn't even have to knock before the door creaked open, and she found Avalon Charles inside. Looking shocked to see her, and more so when she removed her helmet.  
" _Rosa?_ Why are you here?"  
"Someone told me to look here." Rosa answered.  
"Are you fuckin' suicidal?" Avalon gasped, pulling her indoors by her arm and shutting the door. "They kill Cubans here, gang affiliated or not, they can't tell the difference!"  
"Yeah, well, they'd be doing me a favor," Rosa said, only half-joking. "Anyway, you know Tommy's looking for you, right? He made me go get you."  
"I don't want to see him," she replied. She looked tired. No makeup today, and her braids were replaced with her natural curls. An afro parted to the side which barely touched her shoulders. No flashy clothing today either. Just sweats. Like she wasn't feeling like herself- unless the version of her that Rosa came to know was the well-maintained illusion she put up for Tommy.  
"Well he's wondering where you are. And I know that you can see how sketchy it looks to disappear off the fuckin' radar for a month after killing someone."  
An ancient looking black woman walked in from the kitchen while the two women argued. She studied them, cup of tea in one hand and a cane in the other as she passed them to sit in her favorite chair.  
"You should go to put the man's mind to rest, child." She said. "He don't know better than to worry."  
Rosa and Avalon paused to look at her.  
"But Auntie-"  
"Hush now, baby," she interrupted, taking on an endearing tone when speaking to Avalon.  
Rosa recognized her voice. "You're the one who called me! How'd you get my phone number? Who even are you?"  
"Don't worry about it," she replied, waving off the question with a wrinkled hand. She had to be over a hundred... "You're here now. I ask the questions." She offered the cup in her hand to Rosa.  
Avalon looked put off by the cup. She knew what was in it. It wasn't poison, but...  
"Drink, child. It's only tea."  
Rosa was hesitant, but felt compelled to take it.  
"Auntie..." Avalon protested.  
"Hush."  
She took a few sips of the sweet, steaming tea. It smelled like lavender. Harmless. Not chemical in the least.  
And then she didn't remember what happened next.  
  
Avalon sighed haplessly as Rosa drank the tea. Goddamn it.   
"Why bother? She doesn't know anything."  
"I won't put my grandbaby at risk," Auntie Poulet answered. "There's some things you should know 'bout her."  
Rosa was fully suggestible now, staring curiously into the cup as if wondering why she ran out of tea already. "What was this...?" She asked. "I didn't..."  
"What's your full name, child?" Auntie Poulet asked.  
"Tommie Rosalinda Vercetti... No... Salamanca..."  
Did Rosa ever mention that to her before? She couldn't remember. Salamanca sounded familiar.  
"Who are your mama and papa?"  
Rosa's glazed over eyes turned down to her own shoes. "Tommy. And Lita."  
"Lita Salamanca?" Auntie asked.  
"Yes, Auntie," she answered quietly, head shaking as she tried to snap out of her twilight state. But she couldn't. And wouldn't for several more hours.  
Auntie Poulet sighed and sat back in her chair. "And she was with Mr. Robina."  
"Yes, Auntie."  
Avalon stood by, feeling like this was leading somewhere she didn't like. "Let me take her home, Auntie. I don't like this. She's just a dumb ass kid."  
"Do you remember 1986, baby?"  
The year her father was killed. Her mother was so stricken with grief that she disappeared, leaving Avalon to be raised by Auntie Poulet. She was only a year old. Too young to remember. "No?" She answered hesitantly.  
"Well her mama was the one who shot him dead. Saw it with me own eyes. The dead been speakin' about it ever since. And now that Mr. Leone-" she said his name as if there were an invisible Y at the end. "He and your papa been talkin' now that they both on the other side. They know her. But they don't know her. Because she looks the same, but isn't the same."  
Avalon felt dread in her core. She'd remembered seeing an angry Cuban lady in Little Haiti once or twice when she was little. But Rosa being the daughter of the woman who shot her father, as well as the daughter of Tommy Vercetti, notorious drug lord and mass murderer and number one on the FIB's most wanted list?  
This was fucked up.  
"Why did she kill him?" Avalon asked.  
"I don't know," Rosa answered, looking at Avalon every bit as confused as the Haitian woman felt. "I don't know what she did. She never told me."  
"He shot down that Lita's mama and papa. They were in the wrong place, at the wrong time," Auntie shrugged.  
"You told him to go to Little Havana and kill some Cabrones." Avalon said.  
"Yes."  
Completely accidental. Hopefully. "I'm taking her home. Torturing her won't fix anything. C'mon, Rosa," she took the drowsy younger woman by the arm. "I don't know what you wanted me to say or do when I found out. But I'm not gonna hurt her, Auntie. She didn't do anything to us."  
"She still might."  
"'Might' isn't good enough. I'm still a fed, remember?" Avalon said sternly. It was thanks to her that the FIB no longer bothered the Haitians. "You might be the boss, but I don't work for _you_."  
  
When Rosa woke up, she was in her room, on her bed. With a headache.   
The last thing she remembered was seeing Avalon and a red car. Was that just a dream?  
She turned over onto her stomach and heard the soft crumbling of paper being crushed.  
There was a note under her.  
A phone number with Avalon's name.  
She sent the number a text. _"Avalon? What happened?"_  
_"You fell asleep,"_ her response said. _"I took you home. Tell Tommy you couldn't find me."_  
_"He's gonna tell me to keep looking."_  
_"Lie. You're good at it."_  
_Oh, fuck you._  
She felt her hair sticking to the side of her face... wait a minute...  
A sticky smudge of her finger confirmed her suspicion.  
Peach lip gloss... Did... Did they fool around or something?  
_Dude. Fuck me too, did we make out or something?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could you tell that I wasn't sure where to go when it came to Auntie Poulet's accent?


	9. Newly Renovated

"You ever take one of these golf carts out and just _tear up the green?_ " Rosa asked, peering out into the clear blue sea.  
"Once. With your mom. She was... twenty five, I think. I was thirty seven," Tommy offered a faint smile at the fond memory of Lita driving tight circles in the grass and falling out once when he was behind the wheel. She tucked and rolled, but it didn't stop him from circling back around to make sure she was okay. And she was. She was laughing the whole time and was coated in grass stains by the time they went back to his place- one of their best dates. Being with her made him feel like he was still in his twenties at the time too. "I wanted to buy the place out and put the college here but they wouldn't sell it to me. Had to get rid of my movie studio-- internet porn became free so it wasn't profitable anymore." He hit a ball off of the driving range and it disappeared out of Rosa's sight until it hit the water. Didn't seem as far as she thought. Maybe she needed glasses...  
"Love me some free porn," She said blankly, earning a quick judgmental look from Tommy while she hit her own ball off the platform.   
"I _don't_ wanna know that."  
She laughed and drove another ball into the water.   
"You've been more like yourself lately," he said. "I didn't think it'd take you this long to get over... y'know."  
"I'm _not_ over it," she said, spirits dropping in an instant. It'd been another month of trying to normalize. "I don't think I ever will be. I didn't get over it the first time..." Trying to regain focus at school was the hardest part. She felt like she really fell behind with how many times she skipped class, but she busted her ass to catch up again and resume her place at the top of more than one class. Her professors asked what the problem was. She told them she was mourning. They understood and actually cut her some slack by giving her the minimum passing grades on assignments she couldn't make up. College was cool like that.Tommy still felt guilt for asking her to kill Joey Leone. She didn't speak to him for a month because of it. She was so different afterward. Lita never wanted this for her.   
"But I'm keeping myself busy. I'm not falling back into doing drugs. Now I'm just a good-old-fashioned alcoholic. And I'm seeing someone new, so the fact that I went over a year without sex was probably bad for me too. I feel like a better person with a healthy dose of _vitamin D_."  
" _Jesus Christ_ ," he muttered. She didn't give half of a shit about sharing personal details. "I don't wanna know. But... It's good you're feeling better. What's the guy's name?"  
"Omar."  
He hit another ball. "Cuban?"  
"Mexican."  
"Am I gonna meet the guy dating my daughter?"  
"No." The last thing she needed was her drug lord father scaring off the first nice person she'd dated. "So, how about Forelli?" She asked, swinging at another ball and watching as it disappeared into the sea. "Leone was quick to move, so is your old buddy Giorgio gonna take a swing at you any time soon?"  
"I don't know," Tommy said after a brief silence. He saw through her change of subject. She didn't want him to look into Omar at all. But he didn't want to butt in anyway. He probably fucked her life up enough already. He wasn't even sure if he _should_ feel bad about it anymore. She bounced back, after all. "Avalon was the only person I got intel from. Without her..."  
"So if I kill Forelli for you on my own, can I just have twenty thousand dollars, no splitting?"   
He peered over at her, still setting up and hitting neon pink golf balls far out into the water.   
"You don't care anymore?"  
"Why should I? A paycheck's a paycheck and I'm starting to run low."  
Tommy frowned, "Well... If Giorgio makes a move, I'll come up with something. Just stay ready."  
  
"You're gonna give me a hickey if you don't take it easy," she laughed, half-heartedly pushing Omar away from where his lips were against her throat.The same place she'd been bitten before. She was barely comfortable with allowing anyone touch her neck anymore, but she knew Omar's character well enough by now that if she told him to stop, she didn't doubt that he would.  
"Maybe I wanna," he smirked against her skin, lying her back on his couch.   
This was their fourth date: a simple night in where he made her dinner and they spent the rest of the night on the couch in pajamas- which, for her, ended up being a loose V-neck and a pair of Vice City Mambas shorts (all of which she borrowed from him).She stifled a giggle, trying not to make too much noise. He shared the apartment with his older sister Elena. She was studying for a law degree, and was practically a genius.  
"Well I have class tomorrow afternoon regardless and I don't wanna show up with big bruises on my neck."  
"Can I leave 'em somewhere else, then?" She could see him wink in the dull lighting of the TV in the dark living room.  
"By all means," she smirked. She reached for the remote and turned the TV off.They rushed to the bedroom and fell into his bed hard enough that the frame smacked against the wall and probably woke Elena anyway. They had to shush each other's laughter with kisses for a few minutes while they undressed.Then she climbed on top of him, and the rest of the night was perfect from there on out.  
  
When she woke up the next morning, her phone was vibrating on the night stand. She glanced over at Omar, still asleep at her side, before she answered the call. " _What?_ "  
 _"You and me gotta talk,"_ Avalon's voice greeted irritably from the other side. Rosa sighed tiredly, rubbing her eyes as she climbed out of bed and gathered the shorts and T-shirt she wore the night before so she could walk to the bathroom.  
"I thought you quit by now," Rosa whispered into the speaker when she tiptoed into the bathroom and closed the door.   
_"I did,"_ Avalon said. _"But I need to warn you. I saw Forelli in Vice Point."_  
"Cool, so I'll just go to the strip club and deal with him. He's gonna be there, right?"  
 _"Why are you asking me? Shouldn't you be playing lap dog for your daddy now?"_ Avalon asked pointedly.   
"Because _you're_ still our eyes and ears, whether you fuckin' like it or not. You might've quit but you still gave enough of a shit to warn me. So you know everything by now. Right?"  
Avalon paused on the other side of the line, not sure how to explain to the younger woman that this was the end of her help.   
" _Right?_ " Rosa repeated.   
_"Right,"_ the Haitian replied slowly. _"He's gonna go to The Malibu. I'm only telling you because I want you to know to stay away."_  
Rosa huffed and rolled her eyes. "This ain't anything I can't handle. What's one more body? I'm going for a personal record."   
Avalon couldn't hide an irritable groan at the younger woman's arrogant sarcasm. She rubbed her tired eyes on the other side of the line. _"Look... I know you want a paycheck. But it won't come if you get killed. Stay away from this one, Rosa. Please. For your own good."_  
Rosa didn't answer her for a long moment. Thinking.  
How dare she pretend to care?  
"What the fuck do you know about 'my own good'? The act is over, Avalon. Stop pretending to give a shit. Our deal still stands."  
 _"Rosa, I'm serious. I-"_  
" _Goodbye_ ," Rosa sang before ending the call. She stared at her black screen, almost expecting Avalon to call again. "And good riddance, my friend."  
  
The phone number stared back at him from his desk with an imaginary burning gaze, similar to knowing someone's eyes were at your back.  
Anyone else would've looked right past it with how many different papers were strewn and stacked on the surface, but he could pick it out with ease.   
His daughter informed him that Giorgio was coming for him. He wanted to handle this himself, but Tommie wouldn't back out of an opportunity to make money. They'd have to do this together.  
And at sixty five years old, he wasn't as sharp as he used to be.  
He dialed the number on his phone and hit the call button before he could back out. He wanted to speak with her just once more if he was to die.  
It rang.   
Once.   
Twice.  
Thr-  
 _"Helllloooo?"_ Lita's sweet voice answered on the other side.   
He was suddenly mute. He drew a blank on what to say to her. He couldn't even say hello. He couldn't even make a sound.  
 _"Hello?"_ She asked again. This time more blandly.  
"Lita-"  
But as soon as he got the word out, she had removed the phone from beside her ear and ended the call.  
He wanted to dial the number again. To tell her he was sorry for what he said before she left and that he met their daughter and that was happy to see that she was so smart and beautiful just like her mother.  
But instead, he found himself setting the phone back onto his desk.  
And he stared at the phone number once more.  
At least he got to hear her.  
  
"So I'm seeing this guy now," Rosa said absently as she stared at the TV screen and loosely held her controller in her hands. She hooked up her console on occasion to play online with Jimmy and Lamar. Jimmy was online more often, so she found him with ease... And sniped him to say hello. They'd been playing for three hours since they found each other on the map.  
 _"He's not a total doucher, is he? Because if he is, I'm still available."_   
"Gee, thanks for the offer, but he's amazing," she snickered. He was never gonna let that go.  
Jimmy laughed on the other side of the chat. _"So tell me about this 'amazing' guy. Who do I have to compete with?"_  
"His name's Omar. He's a nurse at the hospital downtown. He's trying to become a doctor. A surgeon."  
 _"Isn't being a nurse a girly job?"_  
"Is serving food considered a girly job?"  
He still worked at Burger Shot. _"Point taken. Sorry."_  
The game ended a while later, and Tracey walked in the door as Rosa was placing her headset onto the console and switching the input on the TV.  
"So, how's the job hunt?"   
Tracey had quit working at the strip club after the Leone incident. Ever since then, she'd been trying to plan her wedding and focus on school.  
"Never ending," the blonde sighed. "I need to graduate and get it over with."  
"Still got three years ahead of us," Rosa said idly, lying in her bed and replying to a filthy text from Omar.   
"It's only six more months to the wedding and I feel so far behind."  
"Isn't your mom helping?"  
"Yeah, and we're doing everything so awesome but I feel like it's still so close and-"  
" _Breathe, Trace,_ " Rosa frowned. "Just take it one thing at a time. I'll help if you need me to, okay?"  
She glanced at her phone once she received another text.   
_Tommy._  
 _"Meet me at The Malibu. I need your help to do this."_  
 _Obviously._   
"I'm gonna go, okay? Me and Omar have a date." Rosa lied, climbing out of her bed and getting dressed. She didn't care to stand out in the club, so she dressed well. A cerulean bodycon dress, with a square neckline, cap sleeves, and horizontal creases. It was nice, but it wasn't her favorite. She wouldn't care if it was drenched in gangster blood.   
"Are you going somewhere faaaancy?" Tracey asked. "Because you look _uh-mazing_ in that dress."  
Rosa smiled and stepped into a pair of strappy wedge sandals. Then she tied her hair back into a neat bun. "He's taking me to a co-worker's birthday party. Said to dress up. What are you doing tonight?"  
It was Wednesday, so hopefully not going anywhere. "I'm gonna stay in tonight. Me, Franklin, and Lamar are gonna watch a movie together over video chat."  
 _Good_. "Nice! I'll be back late, don't wait up!"  
  
The Malibu was shockingly busy that night. There had to be at least one or two hundred people there- Jesus, didn't any of these people have work in the morning?  
Rosa made her way up to the bar and found Tommy with a glass half full of whiskey.   
"You ready?" He asked.   
"I will be after a drink." She looked at the bartender and ordered a shot of the best tequila available, which she drank down and pulled a face when the foul taste hit her.  
"Upstairs," Tommy said, forgoing the tab and leading the way.   
Rosa followed behind. She told him days ago about Forelli coming to The Malibu. That Avalon was just busy with her family, but still tried to help.   
So Tommy and Rosa went to The Malibu almost every night in waiting. They never went without the other being there.  
  
This time, Tommy would help her get the job done.  
  
"Take your pick," he said, motioning to the desktop full of guns. Various types. A machine pistol, an AP pistol, a bullpup rifle, a special carbine, a-  
She shook away the memory of tightly gripping a similar carbine rifle in the hot desert, and picked up the special along with the machine pistol.   
Tommy chose the remainders.   
They loaded the guns without another word, the only sound the muffled, bass-boosted music playing on the recently renovated dance floor.  
And waited.   
This was going to destroy the newly renovated club he just paid for.  
  
Rosa frequently checked the time, only to see that a maximum of five minutes had passed each time. Her hands were shaking so hard that she dropped her phone several times and eventually just left it beside her on the couch.   
The same couch she woke up on months ago and told Tommy she wouldn't have anything to do with him.   
_How ironic._  
He sat behind the desk, looking nervous as well. It was nearly thirty years since he last had to handle anything like this himself. And he dragged his kid into it.  
He felt like such an asshole. Why did he think this was a good idea? He should've told her not to be here at all, but she was so fucking stubborn and dead set on being paid...  
She really was just like Lita. That was why he knew she would make it out of this.   
She would never forgive him if she found out about this.  
Maybe that was for the best.  
Maybe she was better off without him bothering her after all that time.  



	10. This Is Who I Am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gun violence in this chapter, read at your own discretion.

Time ticked on.   
An hour and a half to be precise. It was nearly midnight.   
"Are these assholes showing up or not?" Rosa muttered, tightly gripping the special carbine in her hands.   
Tommy's phone chimed on his desktop, and he read the message from one of his bouncers outside the club.   
"They're here," he said, getting to his feet and concealing his pistol in the back of the waistband of his pants and allowing the blazer of his suit to fall over it.  
Rosa stood up and started following him downstairs, not bothering to conceal her guns. "You stay here. Cover me."  
"Are you kidding?" She asked, head cocked to the side and wincing. "You'll just get killed. We've only got one magazine each for the rifles! I should at least be with y-"  
"Cover me from up here," he pointed to the banister that overlooked the rest of the club. "I'll get back here if things look bad." How many guys could Giorgio bring, anyway? The Forelli family didn't have the numbers it used to. Not since he killed Sonny or that traitorous bastard Lance.   
After this was over, he'd pay his daughter for helping, and then the problems would be over. They could relax and he could get her to come around without ulterior motives.   
He'd call Lita again, and finally speak to her after over twenty years.  
Closure.  
The steps down to the club felt shorter than usual, but he savored the last seconds of calm before the storm.   
The obnoxious bumping of newer pop music made his stomach clench even further with nerves as he saw Giorgio, alone, at the door.  
They locked eyes, and the music was nothing but droning in the background. Tommy's other senses were dulled, only sight taking the lead. Even the smallest tell, a signal to whatever men he brought with him, meant war. And every asshole who thought to come to the club on a Wednesday night would just be collateral damage.   
And then Giorgio made his signal, straightening his tie.  
Tommy saw, out of the corner of his eye, two men on either side of the club, leave their tables and slowly advance on him through the crowd.  
  
Rosa stared down the scope of her rifle at Tommy and tried to tune out the bass of the stupid Skrillex song blaring downstairs. Then she looked at Giorgio, and back.   
Tommy's back was to her.   
_Why wasn't he moving?_  
_What was he doing-_  
She spotted four men making their way toward her father through the rest of the clubgoers.  
What the fuck was Tommy doing? Was he trying to get himself killed!?  
_I could just let it happen. This all ends with him._  
_No, no, no._ Of all the fucking times to have intrusive thoughts.  
_Not like this. The old bastard's gonna live for another twenty years and see me become a doctor._  
Her finger settled on the trigger and she remembered the lessons from Trevor as she noticed one of the guys on the left reaching into the back of his jeans.   
_Fuck this!_  
Rosa gritted her teeth and squeezed the trigger.  
**_BANG!_**  
The shot was audible in the millisecond long pause between the next song, and about a dozen people screamed at the sound while one of the Forelli assailants' brains were splattered on the people behind him.   
The club erupted into chaos in the blink of an eye, everyone struggling to get to the doors in a mass panic while Lil Jon started bumping through the speakers of the DJ's newly abandoned booth.   
(She'd never be able to listen to Turn Down For What without reliving this moment for the rest of her life.)  
Meanwhile, Tommy pulled his gun, shot down another of Forelli's enforcers, and took cover behind the bar, where the bartender was cowering and keeping as low as she could. Her only defense.   
Giorgio's men no longer cared about stealth, instead riddling the bar with bullets to try to get to Tommy Vercetti.   
More and more filed into the club once the clubgoers had stopped flooding out the doors, each one of Giorgio's men with a pistol or a rifle.  
But they didn't count on Rosa having the high ground!  
Her hands were shockingly steady, just like back in the desert, as she mowed down the first line of those Forelli fuckers who were closest to Tommy. She dropped to the floor once she saw shots being fired back at her.   
Her heart pounded in her ears and she felt like the earth was moving in slow motion around her as she army crawled across the floor, grabbed Tommy's bullpup rifle, and got to the stairs. She kicked off her shoes on the way down- she'd just trip over them.  
When she stood up, she shrieked as pain shot through her left forearm. She looked down to see blood gushing from a newly formed gash in her skin. A bullet had taken off part of her arm- and part of one of her tattoos.  
" _Motherfucker, that was expensive!_ "  
Now she wasn't just scared; she was **PISSED**. She slung her rifle onto her back, defaulting to her pistol until she got Tommy his backup.  
She ran down the stairs, nearly falling on the landing with how fast she was going, but kept moving until the reached the corner that connected to the rest of the club. She peeked around the side, tightly gripping the rifle with her injured arm and offering suppressing fire with her good arm. She managed to shoot one guy through the gut.   
" ** _DAD!_** " She screamed over the music and gunfire, keeping low around the corner.   
That got Tommy's attention.  
She slid the bullpup across the floor and he pulled it behind the bar, took off the safety, and the bloodshed intensified.   
  
Little by little, they shrunk Giorgio's numbers. He seemed to have retreated, leaving his men to do the dirty work.   
As there became less enemies, Tommy and Rosa managed to advance, picking guns off of the bodies nearest to them to reload.   
But it didn't come without injury.   
Rosa had been grazed several times, and had a gaping bullet hole in her left shoulder near her underarm, but no exit wound. No damage to her lungs, she could still breathe.   
Tommy was a little luckier, having been able to find better cover and shooting with better aim.   
  
By the time they were done, there were dozens of bodies bleeding out onto the new carpet. Forellis and some club goers who didn't get out in time.   
No sign of Giorgio.  
That is... Until they looked amongst the bodies and found him, injured with a hole in his stomach and pinned under a dead man who fell on top of him, struggling to get free, spitting blood, and refusing to die just yet.   
"You couldn't have just left it alone," Tommy reprimanded him. Tired. Bloody. Feeling old. Feeling like a cat who happened across a mouse that couldn't run.   
"Fuck you," Giorgio growled. " _You_ deserved this, Tommy. Not me. For Son-"  
"Ohmygod, let it fucking _go!_ " Rosa snapped. "I didn't know your ratfucking mobster cousin, but I can guess he wasn't worth as much as this _fucking tattoo you ruined!_ " She'd been clamping her hand over the profusely bleeding wound in between taking shots. But now, she pressed her pistol to his forehead, riding the wave of adrenaline that came from killing in self-defense. It was almost like a game by now.   
Trevor would've had her on the floor right-  
_Stop. Don't think about him. Not now._  
Tommy set a hand on her shoulder and gently moved her aside. He cared more about taking her to a hospital than drawing this out. This would be quick.  
He set the barrel of his pistol on Giorgio's forehead. "Are those your last words?"  
"Just a few more," Giorgio seemed to be concealing a smirk. Manic. Ready to die and be done with it. "Say hi to Sonny for me."  
Rosa frowned. "What-"  
She shrieked when Tommy shoved her aside.   
Three shots were fired by the time she hit the floor and screamed in agony when the gash in her forearm scraped against the carpet. But regardless of her injury, she quickly regained sight of Giorgio and pointed her gun at him.  
Only to find that he was down. Dead.   
She looked at Tommy.  
_Down._  
" _SHIT_ -" She screeched, crawling over to Tommy, who she was relieved to see still breathing. " _Ohmygodholyshitohmygodareyouokay?_ "  
She was talking so fast that she was barely aware that she was making actual words between hyperventillating.   
Tommy groaned as he tried to sit up.  
Couldn't.   
There were two distinct bullet holes in his midsection that burned to the point where he knew nothing but agony. He wanted to close his eyes and try to zone out to ignore the pain.  
" _COME ON, OLD MAN!_ " Rosa shouted, not allowing him to rest. " _STAY AWAKE!_ "  
"Ohmygod- Rosa!"  
The Cuban peered up from her father's bleeding stomach to see Avalon, shotgun in hand, having run into the club albeit too late to back them up. She had stopped in the doorway when the sight of dozens of bodies caught her eye, but only two were left alive that she could see.   
"We need to get him to a hospital," Rosa said before realizing she'd even spoken. If it weren't for the sharp, stabbing pain in her arm and shoulder, she would've forgotten that she was hurt too.   
They got him into Avalon's red Buffalo, and Rosa made a phone call to the only person she knew could help. Then she told Avalon where to drive.   
All of this was a blur, and Rosa didn't even remember getting to the hospital where Omar worked. The first thing she remembered was Omar in his scrubs, obviously shaken, helping take Tommy into the E.R.  
She remembered a surgeon taking her aside into another operating room and cutting her dress away to get to the bullet still inside her.  
They put a mask over her mouth and nose to put her out, and that was all she remembered.   
  
And then she opened her eyes.   
The gleaming white light of the sun hitting against the white walls and linoleum of the hospital room were a harsh sight for her tired eyes.  
And then she saw Avalon and Omar.  
Avalon was slumped over in a chair beside the bed. Her jeans and tank top were bloodied from helping Rosa and Tommy get in and out of her car. Omar was checking the heart rate monitor beside the bed. Doing his duty, regardless of who it was for.   
"Where's Tommy?" She asked, voice scratchy with dehydration.   
Omar visibly jumped. "Jesus Christ-  
Which woke Avalon. "Rosa!" She jumped out of her chair and had to keep herself from slapping the younger woman. "You dumb little shit, I told you to be careful! You almost bled out! F _uck you!_ "  
"Where's Tommy?" Rosa asked again, more insistant.  
Omar gently moved Avalon aside, above all else making sure that the patient wasn't under duress. "How are you feeling?"  
"Like shit."  
"That happens when you get shot a bunch of times. But you'll live."  
They shared a faint, humorless smile as Avalon seethed.  
Well... it was nice to see that the care wasn't really an act. Maybe they really were friends.   
"Thanks for taking care of us," she said, spotting a cup of water beside her bed and taking it. The water stung her rawed throat but it was incredible. She was still alive to feel it. To live another day. She and Tommy would get so drunk when they got out of the hospital. And that would be it for the drama.  
"You said your last name was Salamanca," Omar said. "Was that a lie?"  
_Shit._  
She put down the cup and looked at him, silently pleading for him to not abandon her over her half-truths. "No. Yes. Kinda," she fumbled over the correct words. "I took my mom's last name. My legal name is-"  
"Tommie R. Vercetti," he nodded. "I know. I had to ID you."  
Panic. "You didn't call my mom to tell her I was here, did you?"   
"The hospital wanted to," Avalon said, calmer now that she saw that Rosa really was okay. "But I told them it was official FIB business and had to remain confidential. No one is allowed to leak any information without my say so. I told them, and VCPD that you were a random college student, caught in the crossfire and one of two left alive in the shooting."  
"You never mentioned that Mr.Vercetti, was your dad," Omar said, hurt. "Why didn't you want me to know?"  
"Because of _this_ ," Rosa answered, eyes watering. "This is _me_. I'm not a good person. I'm so fucking sorry, I..." She turned her face away from the both of them, tears freely flowing down her cheeks. She couldn't hide that. Everything had built up to this: admission for everything she'd done. "I tried to be better. But I'm trapped. This is just who I am. I'm a fucking animal. I'm just like _Him_."  
"You're not like your dad," Avalon tried to offer some comfort. "You can learn from this and start over. You-"  
" _No!_ " Rosa cried. "I'm just like Trevor. I can't be fixed."  
She shrunk away from Omar's hand reaching for hers. He had no idea of whoever Trevor was, but he wanted to tell her anyway that she wasn't like anyone if they were bad. He liked Rosa, regardless of who she was. He didn't know what she did, but that wasn't her when they were together. She-  
"You need to go."  
He frowned, not believing his ears. "Just-"  
"Go."  
"But I-"  
"No, Omar. Just fucking leave. Before I get you killed or something. Just leave me alone... I don't wanna see you again."  
He didn't offer any words. Maybe this was the out he was looking for after she exposed her true self to him. She didn't know. She wouldn't put him at risk. Who knew what kind of fallout this event would have?  
It would just have to be her and Tommy.  
Avalon allowed Rosa to cry for a few minutes after Omar left the room, shocked to see her so uncharacteristically vulnerable.   
"Where's my dad?" She remembered to ask again. "Is he okay?"  
Avalon didn't say anything, but her full, fuscia painted lips pursed nervously, as if begging Rosa not to make her answer.   
But that was answer enough.


	11. Alive And Well

She'd never arranged a funeral before.  
Not many people came to the service in his mansion on Starfish Island. Some of the men in his gang, Mercedes Cortez, Umberto Robina, some guy named Mitch Baker- even Candy Suxxx, a retired porn star, came to pay respects.   
Tracey even came to support Rosa.   
She came to get Rosa from the hospital a week and a half ago, and was interrogating her the entire time.   
Rosa kept the murders out of her story, but told Tracey about how she decided to give her father a chance and get to know him.   
Avalon's story held up. She was just someone caught in the crossfire. She told Tracey that the guy Rosa was seeing was one of the people who didn't make it.  
Rosa made Tracey swear to secrecy that she wouldn't mention the time she spent with her father.   
After his death, his lawyer contacted her.   
He edited his will in advance, to include her.   
And he left _everything_ to her; his only heir. The mansion, the Infernus, and fifty million dollars worth of cocaine, which she had sold, and the money laundered. Through Lester Crest.  
  
The people she'd never met before couldn't believe that she was Tommy's daughter until they took a good look at her. The spitting image of Lita Salamanca, but with Tommy's eyes. A numb, angry, brown-eyed murder stare behind permanently furrowed brows.   
Tommy was to be cremated. And Rosa would take his ashes.  
No speeches.   
No eulogies.   
No flowers.   
No tears.   
  
"Are you okay?" Avalon asked once she and Rosa got a moment alone. Tracey went to speak with Candy Suxxx ( _"I'm such a huge fan! I even borrowed the name for my old videos!"_ ).  
"I'm great," Rosa said flatly, staring at her father's face while the casket was still open. The funeral director would be taking him soon. "Stitches are healing up. Gonna tattoo over the scars. Didn't you hear? I'm a millionaire now."  
"You know what I mean," Avalon said softly. "You've been through a lot. And- it's okay if you're sad. He was your dad. And that guy at the hospital-"  
"I'm not sad" Rosa replied automatically. As if the response were a button on a soundboard. "I barely knew him. Either of them."  
"Look, I-"  
" _Enough_ ," Rosa snapped. "You and I are _done_. Once this funeral is over, we won't see each other again. Our deal still stands. Understand?"  
Avalon was quiet for a moment. "...I was with him when he died. He held my hand. He wanted me to tell you that he loved you. He said 'she's a mean little bitch, but I love her.'" She left out the part of the story where he confused her with his estranged wife in the last few minutes of his life. That he told her how much he loved her. The closure he needed to die in peace.  
Rosa cracked a small smile. "What an asshole..."   
She sighed sadly. Wishing for this all to be over.   
"I guess I did kind of like him in the end," she said, throat tightening with a swell of emotion. Just when she finally started to like him, he was gone. She didn't want to cry. It wouldn't have made sense to cry. But she still felt her eyes stinging. Almost as bad as the stitches in her left arm and shoulder. "The bastard decided to save me," her voice cracked. "He might've fucking lived if he hadn't." She chuckled, empty. "Fuck, right when I know I liked him, he fucking _dies_. _What kind of bullshit is that!?_ "  
Avalon silently wrapped an arm around the younger woman's shoulder, and Rosa leaned against her, feeling tired and horrendously empty inside. Like she woke up and the surgeons took everything out of her. Like she hadn't slept since she woke up in the bed.   
  
When Tommy's body was taken away to the crematorium, everyone left.   
"Are you ready?" Tracey asked softly, pulling her black purse onto her shoulder.  
"You go on ahead," Rosa said. "I'm gonna stay here a little longer."  
"Let me know if you need anything, okay? I'll come get you."  
Rosa offered a false smile. "I know."  
  
After Tracey was gone, Rosa was alone in the vast mansion, still gleaming pure white in the bright Vice City sunshine, where it always would remain. Empty.   
She went up to Tommy's office and sat behind his desk. The boss's seat.   
And she looked around the silent room.   
This place would be in ruins soon enough.  
She was going to let his coke business fall apart without an operator, and the smaller, local businesses as well. She had already disbanded and dismantled his gang. The only ones who cared to stay were the ones who came to the funeral.   
She was the only member of his family, other than Lita.   
No more Vercettis after her. No more new management.  
Now, finally isolated, she allowed her eyes to fill to the brim and overflow.  
Not crying, necessarily, but allowing her emotions to drip down her face. Wordless. Soundless.   
"Y'know, I wish I didn't treat you like shit when you were still here," she said quietly. "I didn't give you enough credit for trying to have me around."  
She pulled open a desk drawer and found a framed photo with 1989 written in silvery calligraphy in the bottom right corner. Tommy, Lita, and Ken Rosenberg. Lita in the center, young and vibrant and not yet pregnant with Rosa. In her white wedding dress. Tommy and Ken in black suits, Lita with an arm around each of their shoulders as she and Tommy shared a kiss. All young. All alive and well.  
"F- _Fuck_ ," Rosa half- laughed, half-sobbed. "What a life, right? Dad?" She broke into a fit of giggles, tears rolling down her face, which she carefully wiped away without smudging her makeup.   
Her phone buzzed in her bra, trying to pull herself together as she pulled it from her bra and she looked at the screen.   
A conversation she'd been putting off until now.   
 _"Hi, Mija!"_ The cheer in Lita's voice made Rosa's stomach churn. She had no idea what had transpired over the last two weeks. Or the last few months. None of it.  
"Hey, Mom," she tried her best to sound normal. "What are you up to?"  
 _"Just spending time at home. It's been raining a lot lately, so I spent today trying to balance out the pool. How's school?"_  
Rosa didn't answer immediately.   
It was now or never. Lita deserved closure too.   
"Hey, um..." She said, uneasily. Heart heavy with grief and pre-emptive anxiety with how her mother would react.   
  
"There's some things I need to tell you..." 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, it was so much fun to write this! I hope you enjoyed!


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